


For You To Live

by Aliea



Series: for you to live [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Drinking, Drowning, Hospitals, M/M, More tags to be added as story progresses, but only for now, lots and lots of angst, male on male action, sorry it will hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This will hurt, really hurt, but I have to, please understand I have to."</p><p>What would you do for the one you love? What would you give? And would you destroy not only your own heart but theirs as well just so they would live?</p><p>"I would do anything For You to Live."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"None of it was real John, a lapse in judgment maybe, a miss understanding but never real." Sherlock stood with his back to John, his gaze looking out at the rolling field’s before him.

"Do you really think me so stupid Sherlock?" John asked, his voice coming from the other side of the room where he was sat, newspaper in hand and a cup of steaming tea on the small table beside him.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Sherlock allowed his eyes to close as he slowly let it out then turned to face John.

"Come now John, I'm above all of that, above sentiment, above the need to have physical contact."

"Then why start it?" The paper started to crumble in John's hands as Sherlock’s words started to hit home.

"Curiosity."

"No..." The paper became a loss cause as John flung it across the room, its pages coming apart and scattering over the floor.

"John..."

"No!" John stood and stalked across the room in his most intimidating captain’s stance, but Sherlock held his ground. "No, you do not do this! You don’t get to say that, to say that everything meant nothing when I know differently. I was there Sherlock, every breath, every rapid heartbeat, every moan, every gasp, every touch. I felt it all Sherlock."

"I did tell you I was a good actor." Sherlock was surprised by how steady his voice held even as he watched John's rage grow.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I cannot continue with the pretence John, it’s over, it’s that simple."

John's fists clenched and unclenched several times his eyes not once leaving Sherlock’s.

"I see." Taking a breath John finally lowered his head and missed the slight change in his now ex partner’s eyes, a change that disappeared the moment he looked back up.

"Tell me Sherlock, did our friendship really mean so little to you? So little in fact that you sought to destroy it at the most convenient moment."

"I told you John, I don’t do friends. This…" he waved his hand between himself and John. "Was simply a way to see if I could form relations with other people, but unfortunately I find it rather distractful and a little uncomfortable."

John laughed slightly. "Right, it’s taken you two years to find out you can’t be a friend and two months to find out you cannot love. Brilliant, first class work there Holmes." John’s face became like stone, his normally readable eyes shutting off and the man before Sherlock suddenly became more deadly than any other Sherlock had faced in his thirty odd years. Before him was a man broken, a man Sherlock had broken.

"John, you know me, you knew that these last two months had been too good to be true and you were right. I am sorry if you thought..." he never got to finish as a fist connected, hard, to his jaw.

Stumbling he raised a hand to his jaw then to his lip where it was bleeding from where he had bitten it.

"You fucking bastard!" John snarled.

"Really John..."

"Don't!" John now pushed Sherlock till his back was against the window he was just looking out of. "You don't get to say anything, do anything, think ANYTHING!" John’s lips were on Sherlock’s then, kissing him hard, kissing him violently, causing the cut on his lip to pull and sting, but he didn’t care.

Raising his hands Sherlock took hold of John’s shoulders and with a strong and steady push, pushed John away from him.

"No John." He stated harshly. "This is over, I don't want this anymore."

"This?"

"You, I don’t want you anymore John." That did it.

 ~.~.~.~

John's legs felt like jelly, they felt like led and a pain he had not felt in a very, very long time shot through his left leg nearly sending him to the ground. His fists were still clenched in Sherlock’s shirt and though it was the only thing keeping him standing he wanted nothing more than to rip it to sheds.

"I...I don't..." Closing his eyes a moment he took a few deep breaths before looking up at the man he thought was to be his everything. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes sending another wave of hurt and pain through his already shattered heart.

"I've told you this already John! Please don't make me repeat myself, you know how much I hate that."

"Yes, sorry." The world around John became foggy as he slowly let go of the shirt he had been holding onto and stepped away from Sherlock. "Right, well I guess I should go..." he pauses looking about. None of the stuff in this place was his, even the clothes he had where new, bought for him using the Holmes vast trust fund. His clothes were still in London, back in 221B. "I should go."

"Yes."

More pain. How was he still standing?

"I had the staff pack your stuff this morning."

Pain, why only pain? Where had the anger gone? He needed that anger now, it would help, and it would act as a temporary bandage to hold the pain at bay until he could break down on his own.

"Right, had this all planned out already?"

"Of course I did. I knew you wouldn’t want to stay once we had, had this discussion. I also had your stuff moved from Baker Street."

John gasped, his hand reaching out and grabbing the back if a chair, as his left leg finally gave. Holding on tightly, his knuckles turned white as did his vision. All the while Sherlock kept on talking.

"I have of course reimbursed you for the rent and deposit of the flat, had it put back into your account. I've also see to it that you have a place to stay for tonight, a car is waiting for you."

"Sherlock...please." Tears started to blur his vision.

"John I am sorry it had to come to this but it was not right to continue with this, it was just not worth my time."

John turned to look at the younger man and frowned.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am being myself John, someone I've not been able to be since meeting you."

"Well it's not at all nice to meet you." With that John pulled himself straight and with a limp, but still with his pride, he left the room.

 ~.~.~.~

Sherlock turned back to the window his hands clasped behind his back.

He waited, listened to the house as its staff moved around cleaning and making sure everything was how it should be. He listened as the breeze outside caused the slowly building clouds to cover the sun and listened as the house itself cooled down  slightly,  almost as though it took a breath in relief at being out if the sun.

When the sound of the door behind him opened and the familiar footsteps of his brother followed, Sherlock slowly let the facade he had kept in place slowly start to slip.

"He's gone. I'll have people watching him around the clock. I also gave him the ticket, but if he uses it or not is still to be seen." Mycroft came to a stop just behind him and slowly Sherlock turned.

"He will use it. He won’t want to even be in the same time zone as me after that."

"He looked..."

Sherlock held up his hand. "Don’t."

"Sherlock, you did the right thing." Mycroft tried to reassure.

Sherlock looked at his brother as his chest started to heave and tears burnt his eyes. "Then why does it feel like I'm drowning?"

Mycroft took hold of his brother’s shoulders as Sherlock stumbled forward bracing a hand on Mycroft’s chest as he tried to take in a breath.

"Mycroft, help."

"I'm sorry brother, but there is nothing I can do. But you have just save John Watson, at least take solace in that if nothing else."

Sherlock collapsed then, his brother slowing his fall and going down with him as his heart shattered a thousand times over until all that was left was dust.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back in time slightly with this one.

58 days earlier 

 

Sherlock lent against the door as he closed it behind him. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his brain running lightening fast as he ran through every possible path laid before him.

 

"You really do know how to make my life hell." Mycroft's voice cut through his thoughts so when Sherlock looked at him it was through narrow eyes.

 

"At least tell me you have gotten the ball rolling."

 

"Yes, yes. Doctor John Watson will be pronounced dead in the next hour and it will be all over the papers come morning." Mycroft indicated Sherlock's shirt. "I take it the blood only help to convince him."

 

"It helped, but he knows i could still be bluffing." Pushing away from the door Sherlock started to stalk down the hall his brother keeping pace with him. "I need to get back to John."

 

"All in good time. First we need to work out everything."

 

"How long can you hold him?" Sherlock asked as once again he started to plan.

 

 "A month, two at the most."

 

"Two months, two months to convince John to leave." Sherlock muttered to himself.

 

"You know as well as I that that will never happen. He will not leave you, not willingly."

 

"But it has to be willingly, he will not stay away any other way."

 

"Then dear brother, there is only one thing you could do to make him leave."

 

"What?"

 

Mycroft reached out stopping them both from walking and making Sherlock look at him. Sherlock studied his brother a moment then started to shake his head.

 

"No Myc, not going to happen."

 

"You just said yourself he wont leaving willingly. It is the only possible way."

 

"But it will destroy...everything."

 

"Yes, but in doing so it will save his life." Mycroft pointed back down the hall towards the room Sherlock had just vacated. "He will stop at nothing to destroy you, and to destroy you is to take what he believes is your heart."

 

"But to do that, to watch as I...Don't you understand Mycroft that will destroy my heart."

 

"But at least it will still beat, because so will John's."

 

Sherlock searched his brothers eyes, really searched them, looking for another way, but his brother gave up nothing.

 

"Why do you have to be so right about everything!" It wasn't a question and so Mycroft never answered, something Sherlock was secretly thankful for.

 

"Go to John, take him to the family estate, at least there he can recover in peace."

 

"I guess I should inform him of his current status."

 

"Indeed, though do try to break his death to him gently, people do tend to take these things rather badly."

 

Sherlock couldn't help the gruff of laughter that escaped him, especially since his brother's last remark was said with the straightest of faces. "Don't joke Mycroft, it doesn't become you."

 

"Who said I was joking?" This time Sherlock didn’t laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hold out for quick updates. I will post when i have something, you are just in luck that i have most of the first half of this story either already written of at least planned out.


	3. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it all started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time line of this story will jump, I hope to make it all as clear as possible, however if I don't please let me know.

61 days earlier.

 

The sound of the Thames hitting the nearby boats broke up the silence that otherwise rested over Sherlock as he looked down into the murky water.

Less than half a minute before, John had disappeared into those depths, pushed in by the skinny nothing of a jewellery thief that now found himself thoroughly knocked out and lying flat on his face only a few feet away.

As Sherlock continued to look into the murky darkness of the water he quickly found himself stripped down to his trousers, shirt and shoes before he was dived into the cold water.

Hitting the water caused his body to initially flinch and its coldness stabbed at him like a thousand needles, but he forced himself to keep his mouth close and not to take a breath in shock as he kicked down further into the darkness.

As he searched he went through his mind every possible way John could have been taken. It was a new moon, but the currents of the Themes still moved strongly, and the area they were in would more than likely pull John to the east. It was also cold, meaning John would probably be wearing several layers under is jacket, in fact Sherlock knew that John not only had on one of his thickest jumpers he also wore a button down shirt, a t-shirt and a vest. He had also been wearing jeans, boots and thick socks.

Sherlock altered his course slightly and then continued to dive straight down using his slim body to cut through the water as best he could until his fingers brushed something. Flinching back in surprise he then reach out again letting his fingers see for him as they brushed against fabric, and then moved further up until they felt skin, cold skin, then hair, short, soft. Moving his hands back down he grabbed at the fabric and started to pull with all his strength, ignoring the burning that had started in his chest.

Once he got moving again he kicked and pulled with everything he had aiming for the surface, begging for it to appear, willing for it to just open up for him, but it seemed to take an age and the burning in his chest was moving now to his limbs, and burst of light exploded behind his eyes as his body begged him for air. But all his mind said, all it cared about was John, _John, John._

Finally the surface appeared and as he broke it his lungs opened and he breathed in the cold night air as though he was a man parched in a desert.

Pulling still though he pulled his bounty from the water and cried out when John’s face broke the surface. However the small sense of joy diminished as John’s pale blue face registered in Sherlock’s mind.

Panic now started to set in and Sherlock’s new task was to get John onto land, a task he noted as he looked around was easier said than done. The currents had taken them further away from the shore than he would have calculated and he was now treading water with a dead weight trying to pull him down.

Turning to John, Sherlock quickly pushed his fingers to John’s neck searching for a pulse, for anything to let him know that John was still there, still with him, but he got nothing.

“No.”

Pulling John to him he wrapped one arm around the smaller man’s waist while his other arm hooked under his arm and using his hand he pulled Johns head back till his neck was straight, Sherlock then covered Johns mouth with his own and blew into him, before pulling back waiting a few moments then doing it again, all the while he kicked his legs keeping the two of them afloat.

As he continued to breathe for John he didn’t hear the splashing of water from behind him and it wasn’t until another set of hands helped him with Johns weight that he even registered that another had joined them.

Blinking in the dark he took in the other person and frowned.

“I didn’t mean for him to go in the water.”

Sherlock nodded, and then between them he and the thief got John to dry land.

Once back on the small dock Sherlock set to giving CPR counting under his breath to a hundred before forcing more air into John’s lungs.

“I called an ambulance before coming to help.” The thief informed him as he knelt on the other side of John.

“Eight minutes.” Sherlock muttered, his mind giving him the information at random.

“Eight minutes?”

“The ambulance, it will be here in now seven minutes and forty-two seconds.”

“Oh.”

“The police too no doubt.” Sherlock gave John another breath. “I would leave now if you don’t want to be arrested.”

“I…” The thief watched as Sherlock went back to compressions. “You’re going to lose all your strength doing this on your own.”

Sherlock looked up briefly his pale eyes wide with fear. “Never.”

“Okay…but here I’ll do that, you breathe.” The thief forced Sherlock back and took over the compressions, so Sherlock moved to Johns head and though he counted the number of compressions in his mind, he also started to talk to John.

“John, this is becoming rather insulting. Who said that you could go first? Who said that I would allow for you to go first?” He paused as the compressions stopped and he once again sealed his lips over Johns and breathed for him. “This is wrong John, everything about this is wrong. Your, would be killer is now trying to save you and your socially inapt friend is now begging you to come back.” Another pause, another breath. “John Watson open your eyes.” He paused, waited, counted, continued to talk. “John, that experiment, the one you have been telling me to stop, well you were right, it burnt a huge hole in the table, I’ve been hiding it from you.”

“I can hear the ambulance.” The thief said as he continued to pump John’s heart.

“Okay, six minutes in the water, cold, close to zero but not quite, that would help preserve the brain. In all, so far, ten minutes since we got you out of the water, John Watson wake up!” He gave another breath this time his hand finding its way into Johns hair and he pulled slightly before he let his forehead against Johns as tears started to prick at his eyes. “John, please, don’t do this, please.”

The lights from the ambulance started to break through the night and then the sound of feet running broke the silence.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade’s voice reached Sherlock but he never looked up. “Oh shit! John!” Sherlock felt the DI fall down next to him as the thief continued compressions. “What happened?”

“I… didn’t…mean…for him…to go…in….the…water!”

Sherlock didn’t look up, instead in his mind, he reached another one hundred and gave John another breath.

“How long?” Lestrade asked.

“Since going in the water, nearly twenty minutes.”

“Oh god…”

“No!” Sherlock did look up then. “No you are not to do that, do not for one second give up on him!”

“Sherlock…”

Coughing interrupted Greg and the two men looked down as John was rolled onto his side by the thief as he started to cough up water.

“John!” Sherlock helped by holding John, his hand running through his friend’s hair. “John?”

“Cold…” John stuttered and then started to shiver in earnest.

“Clothes, start stripping him.” The three men started to rid John of his soaked clothing and Lestrade gave up his coat just as the paramedics arrived.

“Sher…She…lo…Lock?” John reached out grabbing Sherlock’s hand with fingers that where like ice.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

“Kn…knew.”

“Knew? Knew about what?”

“Ta…tab…table.”

Sherlock laughed as the tears he had been fighting stated to fall down his cheeks. “Of course you did.”

Leaning forward Sherlock placed his forehead against John’s temple and closed his eyes, all the while keeping hold of John’s hand.

“Tired.” John whispered without stuttering.

“It’s okay, I’m got you, just relax.”

“We need to get him up, off the floor, and get him warmed up.” A female paramedic said as she worked on the other side of John. “You need to let us do our job now sir.” She said her eyes soft but demanding as Sherlock looked up at her.

“I go with him.”

“Of course, but you need to move so we can work.”

“Okay…John, I’m still right here, but I need to move.”

“’Lock….” John reached out as Sherlock moved away letting go of his hand.

“Still here John.”

As he moved from John the cold started to reach him too and only then did he realise just how wet and terrible his body felt. Looking down at his hands he watched as they started to shake and when he looked back up the lights from before started to flash behind his eyes once again.

“Lestrade.”

“Sherlock?” The DI caught him just as his legs gave out and the lights increased before darkness took him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst.

Present day.

 

John stood just inside the hotel room not taking in the plush interior, but rather staring at the bags placed just inside.

The bag that had been packed for him that morning was still in his hand, but the bags that were placed on the floor where clearly from Bakerstreet. Dropping the bag he had hold off he closed the still open door behind him before simply leaning against it and then slowly sinking to the floor. Once down, his bad leg stretched out before him, the other bent, he placed his head upon his knee and just breathed. He kept it steady, in for five out for five, kept on counting and counting, trying his best not to allow everything just fall apart all at once.

It didn’t work.

He could feel his heart beating but it hurt, really hurt as he could also feel it break apart.

Sherlock’s words kept on echoing in his mind.

_'None of it was real.'_

_'I did tell you I was a good actor.'_

_'It's over.'_

_'I don’t want you anymore John.'_

With last John clenched his fingers in his hair and pulled slightly.

What had happened? Sherlock had been invested in all of this, he had been sure of it. Ever since the hospital, since that first kiss, he had been sure that Sherlock had wanted all that it entailed when it came to taking their relationship to the next level.

But in the last week something had changed, no not something, Sherlock, Sherlock had changed.

It had happened after the night John had told Sherlock that he had totally fallen in love with him, that he had in fact been in love with him for a very long time.

Sherlock, of course never told him that he loved John too, but they had fallen into bed after that, not for the first time, but it has been different to the other times. It had been slow, with John worshipping every part of the pale body he had come to know more intimately than any other. Sherlock too took his time, kissing practical every inch of John before slowly entering John for the first time and bring John to the most earth shattering orgasm he had ever felt.

Sherlock had cried after, though neither of them said anything about it, John just held him running his fingers through soft curls and just repeating over and over again the words he had finally been able to tell him.

The next morning John had woken alone, it was the first time since arriving at the country estate that he had woken without Sherlock either still asleep next to him or at least in the room.

Since that morning Sherlock had distanced himself, he stopped sleeping with John, telling John that he had things to do, experiments to see to. John had thought nothing of it, thinking that it was nice to see Sherlock finally acting like himself after months of him only caring about John, making sure that he was fine after the accident.

But then everything else stopped, at first it was just the little things, like the shared looks, the gentle touches, but then the kisses stopped as did the extended hugs that John was sure Sherlock secretly loved. Then only yesterday when John had gone to kiss him, Sherlock physically flinched and stepped away before making an excuse and left quickly.

Growling John hit his head several times against his knee.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

He should never had told Sherlock how he felt, never confessed his love. But he had been sure Sherlock felt the same, he had seen it in his eyes, felt it in his touch, his kisses, in everything they had shared.

The tears he had been fighting since leaving the estate suddenly burst through the damn he had built and his already shattered heart started to ache all over again.

What was he going to do?

His life had just told him he was no longer needed, no longer wanted.

Leaning his head back against the door he once again took in the bags before him, the bags that where now his life then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope Mycroft had given him.

Opening it he first pulled out the one way ticket to Australia, then pulled free the passport, opened it and read his new name, no longer John Watson, he was now Johnathan Wallace, forty-two years old, a year younger than his actual age.

Putting the passport back he then pulled out new credit and bank cards in his new name, all of them Australian accounts. He then pulled out deeds to a house, details of a job already waiting for him and keys to a new car. It also held around five thousand Australian Dollars.

Mycroft had passes this onto him with a sad look upon his face. "Use this John, please."

"Why?"

"Because it is the least I can do in the circumstances."

"I promise nothing." John had said taking the brown envelope and putting it in his pocket.

Now as he stared at everything that was meant to be his new life he felt nothing but empty.

His life was to be with Sherlock. Always with Sherlock, no matter in what capacity, it would always be with him.

They had planned, they had worked out that once they had destroyed the reason for John’s faked death that they would bring him back and they would return home, back to Bakerstreet back to solving crime and making tea. But that was now obviously out of the question, there was no returning to Bakerstreet to crimes and tea.

Putting everything back into the envelope John pushed himself up off the floor only then taking in the room he found himself in.

The car had taken them back towards London but had stopped before crossing the M25 and entering greater London. In fact it had stopped at one of the hotels close to Heathrow airport.

This hotel was definitely one of the nicest close to the airport.

The room was warm in colour, it boasted a huge bed, a desk with a coffee machine and kettle. It also had a mini fridge under it which, when John opened it, held an array of small bottles from water to spirits, it also had several cans of coke as well as a few cans of beer.

Pulling the beer from the fridge he opened one and took a few mouthfuls before shrugging off his coat and sitting on the bed.

Taking another good look around he then picked up the control for the flat screen TV and turned it on, he flicked through the channels before stopping on a music channel. Turning it up, he downed the rest of the first can before opening another and downed half of that.

~.~.~.~

A few hours later, John had showered, he had also drank all the cans and was now on his third glass of whiskey. He was drunk he was sure of it, he felt numb, the pain of his leg had eased slightly and the pit that now existed in place of his heart only stung rather than feeling like something had physical been ripped from him.

The TV still played the music channel loudly, and John just led on the bed, still wrapped in the towel from his shower.

As he led there listening to music far too young for him and feeling the effects of the alcohol he allowed himself just for a moment to dream, to dream that Sherlock was just in the shower, that they were both just spending the night in the hotel before heading off for a case in some foreign country. He could dream that Sherlock would appear from the shower still wet, his hair smoothed back and looking just a delectable as he always did. John could dream of pulling the towel from around Sherlock’s waist, dream of kissing that still wet pale skin, tasting the water and something that was just purely Sherlock, he could dream of kissing that amazing mouth, delving his fingers into still wet hair and freeing the curls.

Yes John could dream and so he did but when it was over John was just as alone as he had been but now the sting was gone replaced with the pure pain of loss, leaving him curled up on his side pressing his face into the bed as he finally fell apart.


	5. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wakes up in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back in time once again.
> 
> Also I am not now or have a I ever been a doctor or nurse, all medical stuff in this chapter is found online and of course some artistic licence has been used. So no judging on medical terms or usage ;)

60 Days earlier.

 

The dark was nice, it was something he never got very often, his mind normally filled it, bombarded him with a constant flow of information, but for right now the dark was like a very nice soft fluffy pillow. It was welcoming, safe, and he did not want to leave, but a beeping from some distance away would just not go away.

As the darkness around him started to brighten, images started to come to him, images of the river, of dark water, of pale skin and blue lips.

“John…” He breathed as his eyes opened and then promptly closed again as the light from the overhead lighting stung his eyes.

“Easy brother.” Mycroft’s voice came and Sherlock squeezed his eyes tighter shut.

“What are doing here Mycroft?”

“Where else would I be Sherlock when my brother passed out after saving his best friend.”

Sherlock bolted up right his eyes wide as he took in the hospital room. “John…Oh.” Dizziness flooded him suddenly causing him to fall back onto his pillows his hands covering his face.

“Yes, your body went into shock, it would seem you are still suffering from its affects.”

“It is mere transport.”

“Transport that has been damaged.”

“Where is John?”

“In ICU. He was clinically dead for more than fifteen minutes, they are doing everything they can to make sure he makes a full recovery.”

Sherlock let those words flow over him a moment before he lowered his hands and just stared up at the blank ceiling above him.

“The water was near freezing.”

“Yes, and that will help in his recovery. It is good fortune that this case came in the winter.”

Turning to his brother for the first time Sherlock’s pale eyes narrowed. “Indeed. What of the thief?”

“The good DI took him into custody after he had been looked over by the doctors here.”

“He saved John, if he…I couldn’t get him back on my own.”

“Yes, he did tell me as much.”

Pushing himself up again, this time slowly, Sherlock took deep breaths hoping to hold at bay the dizziness that seemed to still threaten him.

“I need to see John.” Once he was sat up fully he moved his legs so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed facing his brother. “Will you take me to him?”

The brothers looked at each other for only a few seconds but in those seconds a lot was said, a lot was answered and a lot was agreed upon.

“Fine.” Sherlock nodded slowly. “Just take me to him.”

Mycroft stood and opened the door, talking to someone outside before turning back to his brother.

“You may wish to put on one of your dressing gowns brother.” 

Sherlock looked down at himself and sighed. Gone was his wet suit, replaced by standard hospital gown that was sure to be open at the back.

“Here.” Mycroft said holding out his blue silk dressing gown. “You have more clothing there.” He nodded to the corner. “But for now I’m sure the hospital would prefer you in what they put you in.”

“Of course they would.” Sherlock said sarcastically. “I am sure it has nothing to do with the sick pleasure you get from seeing me so weakened.”

“On the contrary brother, I do not derive any kind of pleasure from seeing you in such a state.” 

“I am sure.”

Before another word could be said by the two an orderly enter, pushing a wheelchair before him.

“Here we go.” The grey haired man said with a smile. “Would you like me to take you where it is you are going?”

“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary.” This coming from Mycroft. “I’ll take him.”

“Very well, if you just return this to the nurses station when you are done.”

“Of course.”

The man left with a smile still on his face, leaving Sherlock to get up on slightly unsteady feet with the help of his brother. Together they got the blue dressing gown on Sherlock’s long frame before Mycroft led him to the chair.

“This is rather tedious.”

“Yes well, that is what you get for jumping into the Thames in the middle of winter. Your body’s reaction to the cold, and to the emotional trauma is sure to have a rather dulling affect.”

“Emotional trauma?” Sherlock asked looking up at his brother as he pushed him down the hall.

“Yes Sherlock. John nearly died, in fact, he did die.”

Sherlock wanted to retort, to tell his brother that he was not so week, but he knew it would be a lie and he also knew Mycroft would easily hear the lie in his voice if he was to say something.

“Before you see him you need to understand that he is very ill.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything other.”

“He is being kept in a coma for now, to help prevent the cell decay that is known to happen when one dies for long periods of time.”

Sherlock’s body tensed slightly at his brothers words, something Mycroft did not miss but he held back any comment on his brother’s reaction.

“His sister, has of course been informed, but she has not yet attended to him. Gregory Lestrade has made it a point to stay with him while you have been…recovering.”

“The DI does have his uses.”

“Indeed.” Sherlock looked behind him at the tone of his brothers voice and frowned.

“Oh please, please don’t Mycroft.”

“I am sure I have no idea what you are referring to Sherlock.” Mycroft looked down at his brother with a rather sly smile on his face. 

Shuddering Sherlock faced forward as they entered the ICU.

Once through the doors the quite of the ward overcame the two brothers and neither said another word as Mycroft pushed Sherlock to the very end cubical.

When John came into view Sherlock had to physically hold himself back from jumping out of the wheelchair to get as close to John as he was able.

Standing from his chair, Lestrade moved it and himself back to allow Mycroft to push Sherlock closer to the uncousiouse doctor.

“Any change?” Mycroft asked putting the break on and leaving his brother to do as he wished.

“None, but then, they are keeping him this way.”

“Have they said when they will let him wake?” Sherlock asked as he reached out and gently placed his long pale fingers over John’s smaller golden ones.

“No, but, I’m not family.”

Sherlock ignored the two other men as they continued to talk in hushed tones, all his attention was now on John.

John was naked from the waist up, he had monitors placed all over his chest and sides (heart rate steady, oxygen intake low), as well as tubes coming from his right side (right lung collapsed). He also had a breathing tube going down his throat, as well as a feeding tube in his nose. He also had several lines going to an IV line in the back of his left hand (hydration, antibiotics, and probably whatever drug they used to keep him in the coma). He was pale, his normally golden skin drawn and almost grey, but his hand was warm, that, at least Sherlock was thankful for.

“John.” Sherlock’s fingers tightened on John’s hand almost willing John to squeeze back, but of course nothing happened.

“Gentlemen.” A female voice suddenly spoke from the end of the bed and all three men turned to look at the nurse that had appeared. She was small, blond short hair, pale blue eyes and a warm face. “I am well aware who it is I have in this bed, and I am well aware who you are.” She looked at Sherlock with kind eyes. “But I am afraid that I can only permit one visitor at a time at the moment.”

“I’m not leaving.” Sherlock said in a rush his grip on John increasing.

“Sherlock, you are still in recovery yourself. And we agreed.” Mycroft said, disapproval clear in his voice.

“One hour.” Sherlock simply stated.

“Very well. I will be back to return you to your bed in one hour.”

With that both Lestrade and Mycroft left leaving Sherlock alone with John and the nurse.

“I heard you pulled him from the water.” The nurse said as she picked up John’s personal records and started to take notes of his STATS. 

“I had help.” He answered quietly as he let his fingers run gently over the back of John’s hand.

“I am sure when he wakes he will be very grateful.” Sherlock turned to her then.

“Can you tell me?” He asked hope in his tone.

“You are not technically classed as family.” She bit her lip a moment. “How long have you been flatmates for now?”

“Nearly two years.” 

She nodded to herself then crossed her arms. “I never told you this.”

Sherlock nodded his understanding.

“His brain activity decreased in the time he was brought in to the time we put him under, that was why we put him under. People who have died and have been dead longer than five minutes tend to have their brain cells die off after they have been brought back, it can be hours or even days later that it can start to effect the person, but it can been stopped and it can be healed to a certain extent if caught fast enough. We think in Doctor Watson’s case we caught it fast enough not for there to be any long term damage.”

“What then is the prognosis?”

“As far as the doctors are concerned it is a good outcome, we just need John to heal and to rest for a few days before we dare bring him back around.”

Sherlock turned back to John then and slowly breathed. “Thank you for telling me.”

The nurse smiled and gently placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Give him time Mr Holmes, he will pull through.”

She left then and Sherlock lowered his head until it rest on the edge of the bed just next to John’s hand which he still had hold of. 

“You better wake up when they let you John Watson, because believe me when I say I will follow you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of breaking John Watson's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a very short chapter, but wanted to keep a steady postings schedule.
> 
> Enjoy the angst!

A week earlier.

 

Sherlock woke before John, he always woke before John and he always took the time to just watch the other man as he slept.

Today was no different, today he turned and faced the still sleeping doctor. John was curled up on his side his right hand tucked under his head while his left held onto the duvet. He was breathing lightly and even though the sun was starting to lighten the room John slept on, never one to wake with the rising of the sun unlike Sherlock who could never sleep once the sun was up.

Reaching out Sherlock itched to touch, to run his fingers through soft golden hair, to touch skin that needs to be shaved, to run his own face over that stubble and to kiss the sleeping man before him awake before trailing hot possessive kisses down a body still fit from serving his country but had soften just around the edges.

But before he did touch he stilled, his fingers curling up upon themselves. John's word's from the night before replaying in his mind causing heart to leapt with joy before crumbling to pieces.

"God Sherlock will you just come to bed!" John had said from the centre of the bed as he had watched Sherlock pacing.

Sherlock had paused and turned to look at John and he had thought, just one more night, one more time, one more kiss, one more everything, before he had to end it.

"Make me." Sherlock said a sly smile forming on his lips.

John had smiled and moved to kneel on the edge of the bed reaching out and pulling Sherlock closer his hands gripping slim hips while he started to kiss along Sherlock's jaw.

"Come to bed Sherlock so I can show how much I love you. So I can tell you how long I've been in love you."

Sherlock had gone still, he stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped everything. This wasn't what he wanted to happen, not like this. John was never to tell him, he had never planned on John telling him even though he knew, he knew how deeply John’s feeling ran but he did not for one moment expect for John to tell him.

"Sherlock?" John's voice cut through his stillness and when he looked down he clearly saw the question in John's eyes, had he gone too far? Said too much? Sherlock couldn't stand it.

Taking hold of John's face he lent down and kissed John in such a way that there was no way that John would fail to understand. Sherlock loved him too, but he would not say it, not tonight.

As Sherlock blinked away the tears that once again threatened as he thought upon the night before, he started to lock rooms within his mind palace.

"I'm sorry, John." He whispered still not touching even though every cell in his body begged him to. "This will hurt, really hurt, but i have to, please understand that I have to."

With that he got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

By the time he showered, gotten changed and left the still sleeping form of John, Sherlock had closed and locked ever room with John's name upon it, within his mind palace and he also put on his best disguise. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, it was time to start doing it again.

By the time John woke, Sherlock was ready to do the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He was ready to destroy John Watson's heart.


	7. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is discharged but John is still in a coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter...well when I say long I mean longer than my normal 1500 odd words. Hope this makes up for my lack of chapter yesterday, but it was my birthday and well I had the Hunger Games to see :D
> 
> Anyways enjoy the angst, oh and the little bit of fluff.

Sherlock was discharged the next day.

From that moment he didn’t once leave John’s side, even after visiting was over he remained. 

John had been moved to a private room, organized of course by Mycroft, and Sherlock had been given a small fold out bed, something part of him was grateful for, but he would never use it.

Harry turned up on the third day, she came, left some flower (store bought) a quickly scrawled card and a kiss to her baby brothers head, before she left’ stumbling slightly on her way out, not even asking the staff what was going on with John. After that the staff started to tell Sherlock everything, seeing him as John’s next of kin.

That evening the doctors came on their rounds and then returned an hour later and started the process of reversing the coma.

Sherlock stood back, his arms crossed over his white shirt as they administered the reversal drug and then they all started to watch the monitors as John started to come around.

Alarms started to go off, but they were quickly silenced as John fought against the breathing tube.

“Go and talk to him.” Sherlock jumped and looked down at the blond nurse, whose name was Claire, before walking to the head of the bed.

“John, you’re okay.” He glanced up at the monitors then looked back down at the man in the bed. Reaching out he gently started to run his fingers over Johns forehead and then into his hair.

“I need you to listen, and I need you to do exactly what I say. Right now they are helping you to breathe because your lungs are weak and having difficulty to breath on their own, so you have a tube down your throat. I know that is scaring you, and I know it is uncomfortable, but it is there to help. What I need you to do is to breath with it, to let it help you. Can you do that John?” Sherlock’s fingers now ran soothingly through John’s hair as the doctors around them talked and watched waiting for John to wake fully.

As they all waited the monitors showed John to stop panicking as he started to breathe with the help he was being given, his heart rate stabilised and his oxygen intake increase.

“Good, that’s really good John.” Sherlock smiled down at his friend and lent down even more, lowering his voice slightly he continued to talk. “Okay the next thing I need for you to do is to open your eyes. I’m right here and I swear when you do open your eyes I will be the first thing you see.”

Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock saw Johns hand lift and he grabbed it wrapping his fingers around them feeling joy as John squeezed his fingers with all he was worth.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay, I have you.”

John’s eyes flickered a moment and then they opened, it was only for a second, a flash of blue, before they closed again.

“That’s it, come on John, open your eyes and let these doctors see that you are going to be okay.”

John’s fingers squeezed again, and so when John’s eyes did open again he was smiling down at his friend.

For a long time the two just stared at each other. Sherlock just soaked up those deep blue eyes, searching them, registering everything about them, wanting nothing more than to keep them open, to keep them looking straight at him, the way they were now.

“Hi.” Sherlock whispered, the hand in John’s hair stilling a moment before he ran his thumb over John’s forehead and then lent down his lips covering the spot his thumb had just been. When he lifted back up he noted a change in John’s eyes, they were lighter, almost sparkling. The grip on his hand increased once again, almost in an acknowledgment of the action Sherlock had just given. 

“Not good?” Sherlock asked worried he had crossed a line somehow. However John nodded and squeezed his hand again. “Was good?” John nodded again and pulled on Sherlock’s hand bringing it to his chest and holding it there.

“Okay, Doctor Watson?” Sherlock looked up then, registering the room for the first time since John opened his eyes. The lead doctor was stood on the other side of the bed and when he looked back down at John, John now had his attention on the doctor, but he still had a tight hold of Sherlock’s hand.

“Doctor Watson, I am Doctor Stoude. I just want to go over a few things so that you know what is going on. Are you okay with that?” John nodded and so the doctor proceeded to tell him what had happened, what it was they had done to help him and what they planned on doing to help in his recovery. 

“We will take the tube of when your lungs become strong enough to cope on their own. The right lung though not perfect is nearly fully inflated, and I think we can take the chest tube out in the morning. We will then monitor you and when we are happy will remove the breathing tube. Is that okay with you?” John nodded again, but Sherlock could feel the tension starting to overcome John’s body.

“John?” John turned to Sherlock. “Are you in pain?”

John’s eyes changed again, this time darkening slightly before he nodded.

“Okay, we will get you on some painkillers ASAP.” Doctor Stoude said before turning to one of the nurses and ordering some morphine. 

Once John was set up with painkillers and the room emptied of all but doctor Stroud and Sherlock, Sherlock watched John as his eyes started to close, but then open again searching to make sure that Sherlock hadn’t gone.

“I’m not going anywhere John, it’s okay to sleep I promise.”

The grip on his hand changed slightly, John started to squeeze in what felt like a pattern of some sort, and it wasn’t until the pattern started to repeat that Sherlock caught on.

“Oh John Watson you always amaze me.” Sherlock smiled and pulled a chair closer to the bed bringing Johns hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles gently before letting John continue with the Morse code. 

“’Sleep is for the weak’” Sherlock translated. 

“This is true John. But you have been through a lot and your body needs to rest.” John rolled his eyes at that and started a new pattern.

“’You should sleep.’ I’m fine John.”

“’You have been in hospital too.’ Yes but…” Sherlock paused, frowning slightly. “How do you know?”

John pulled his hand free and moved it down Sherlock’s wrist and pushed back the sleeve slightly, revelling the hospital band Sherlock had yet to remove.

“Ah, that, my friend, is very observant for someone who has just woken from a coma, let alone someone who had been dead for over fifteen minutes.”

John’s eyes widened slightly and his fingers gripped Sherlock’s wrist almost painfully. The alarms went off again, but the doctor quickly turned them off.

“Please try to keep him calm Mr Holmes.”

“Damn, John, I’m sorry, I never…I didn’t think.” Reaching out he once again ran his fingers through John’s hair hoping to sooth his friend. “It’s okay, I promise, I brought you back, and everything will be okay. Okay?”

John took a while to calm himself, to get his heart rate back under control and to allow himself to breath with the tube. Once he did he lent his head into Sherlock’s touch and closed his eyes, the hand holding Sherlock’s wrist giving another message.

“’Tired’ Okay, go to sleep John, I will be here when you wake.”

“’Promise?’ Yes, I promise.”

With that John’s eyes closed fully and the moment he fell asleep his grip on Sherlock’s wrist lessened, his hand falling back to the bed.

Sherlock for his part continued to run his fingers through John’s hair, watching his friend as he slept, comforting him when he woke slightly, using soothing words to get him to go back to sleep.

After nearly six hours though Sherlock needed to get up, his transport may not mean much to him but he could only ignore it for so long and right now he needed to use the loo. 

As gently as he could he untangled his fingers from John’s and stood, stretching his back and arms as he did so. He held still for a moment as he looked down at John waiting to see if his movements would have woke his friend, but after a few minutes, John didn’t so much as twitch, so he moved towards the bathroom to take care of himself.

When he re-emerged he sighed and as he took in his brother.

“Mycroft.”

“Sherlock.” Mycroft looked up from the chair Sherlock had vacated no so long ago. “I heard that our good doctor has woken.”

“Mine…” Sherlock paused his eyes widening slightly, Mycroft smiled.

“Yes, sorry, your good doctor.”

“Leave Mycroft.”

“Yes of course, I only came to make sure you were both well and also to inform you that the thief as has been asking after John.”

“Why is that a concern?” Sherlock asked as Mycroft stood and Sherlock moved to retake his chair next to John.

“I guess there is no concern.” Sherlock watched as he walked to the door but stopped before opening it. “However, I think that you would like to know that your Thief is, well, he is a lot more than a mere thief.”

“What do you mean?”

An answer never came.

John started to fight against the tubes again, though he was still sleeping. 

Turning, Sherlock wasn’t quick enough to stop John as he twisted and then with his left hand grabbed the tube inserted into his right side and pulled.

“John no!” Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist but it was too late, John had pulled the tube from his side and in the process ripped the hole in his side even more.

Alarms started to sound and as John woke he pulled his hands free of Sherlock’s grasp and went for the tube currently down his throat.

“No…John, John stop!” Sherlock went to grab his wrists again but John seemed to have a burst of adrinalin because he was fast, and strong. He push Sherlock away with his right hand while his left pulled at the tube down his throat. 

Wreching coughs filled the small room as Mycroft pulled open the door and shouted down the hall where nursing staff were already on their way.

“John…”

“Sher…”more coughing, as John curled in upon himself protecting the area where the chest tube had just been pulled free.

“What happened?” Nurses suddenly filled the room and Claire pulled Sherlock away so that she could get to John.

“I’m not sure. He was asleep and then this.”

“Okay…John, Doctor Watson!” Claire gently pulled John back so he was flat on his back, but his arms stayed wrapped around himself and blood now covered the right side of the bed, as well as most of John’s chest and side.

“Sherlock…” John gasped his eyes wide as he searched the room.

“He’s here. It’s okay John, but we need you to calm down.” Claire tried to reassure but it soon became clear that John was having none of it. He continued to look wildly around the room. “Mr Holmes…Sherlock, come here.”

Sherlock stepped closer to the bed as Claire moved so that John could easily see him.

“Sherlock…” John reached out his hand, now covered in blood, but Sherlock didn’t hesitate as he reached out taking the hand and grasping it tightly.

“You need to stop John, you are causing yourself more damage.”

“Don’t…don’t leave.” John rasped out, his throat obviously tender from him pulling the tube free.

“I’m not going anywhere John, not now, not ever.”

“It was…dark.”

“You were sleeping.”

John shook his head and the hospital staff started to fix John up, they decided to leave the chest tube out and started to clean up the wound and apply a dressing while Sherlock kept John focused on him.

“Not sleeping…the water.”

Sherlock watched John’s eyes, they were huge as they looked at him, wide with fear, and pain.

“Yes, it was.”

“Don’t leave.”

Lifting his other hand, he gently ran it through Johns hair. “I wont.”

Claire came up to Sherlock and showed him something in her hand. “We are going to sedate him for a while, let him recover, and get his breathing back under control.” With that she pushed the medication into Johns IV.

As the drug started to take effect John’s grip on Sherlock increased.

“No…Sherlock, no, don’t, please.”

Sherlock didn’t really understand what was going on with John, John who would take on anything without so much as a shiver of fear, John who protected Sherlock to the end, John who had killed when he needed to, John who was the strongest person he knew was at this very moment so consumed by fear it scared Sherlock.

Leaning down even more he pulled John’s hand to his chest holding it tightly, while his other hand continued moving gently through Johns blond hair, he was only a couple of inches from John’s face, his eyes holding John’s deep blue ones.

“John, its okay, you just need to rest, to sleep. I’m not going anywhere and when you wake up again I will be here.”

“But, the water.”

“There is no water John, you are in hospital.”

“I tried, I tried so hard to get back to the surface, but…” John’s eyes closed for a moment and Sherlock thought he had finally dropped off, but then they opened again and John lifted his free hand and pulled Sherlock closer. “The thief…”

“In jail.”

“We know him.”

Sherlock frowned deeply, he had never seen the man before the night he first hurt then saved John.

“Are you sure?”

“The eyes...he...” John eyes closed once again but this time they stayed close as the sedative took full effect.

Straightening, Sherlock gently took his hand from John’s blood covered one and stood back to let the staff finish tending to his friend.

Turning he looked at his brother who hadn’t moved from the corner.

“Who is he?”

“It might be best to go and see for yourself.” Mycroft said softly.

“Where is he?”

“We have moved him to a, more secure facility.”

“Why?” Mycroft never answered the question, instead he moved to the door and held it open.

“I can have us there and back again within a few hours if you care to find out.”

Sherlock looked back to John a moment, taking in his friend, his heart beating wildly at the thought of leaving him when he had promised not to.

“He will be under for the rest of the day, you should go, get yourself showered and do what you have to.” This came from Claire as she finished cleaning the blood from John’s hands.

“If he wakes, even for a second, you call me.”

“I will.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Australia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not totally happy with this chapter, its short and a bit rushed due to me writing it once and then losing it so had to write it again :(
> 
> Anyways more promised angst cause well that is what this whole thing is about ;)
> 
> Feel free to leave your hugs for John in the comments :D

The weather was not as warm as he expected, but it was still warm, warmer than England had been when he had left.

John stood just outside of Perth international airport and for the first time since leaving the Holmes estate he felt awake.

The last forty eight hours had been like a dream for him. He of course remember those last hours at the estate, the hotel was a blur, hazy thanks to the alcohol and  though he was sober for the flight it still had a hazy quality to it as he had just let the grief and pain sit heavily upon him. 

But now, stood on soil he had never stepped upon before, in a time zone as far away from...well as far away from him  as possible, he started to finally feel a little like himself.

"You after a taxi mate?" An Australian voice asked breaking John out of his thoughts.

"Yeah." He replied as he took in the man before him. He was dressed in jeans and a white button down shirt, his hair blond and his skin tanned. He was leaning against a white car clearly marked as a taxi.

"Where to?"

"Umm" John pulled free the envelope with all his details and pulled free the paper with the house address upon it. "Here." He passed the address to the cabbie.

"Posh." The man said passing back the paper and turning to open the boot of his car. "Here let me help." He offered as John started to put his stuff in the boot.

"Thanks." John muttered, and when the last of the luggage was put away he got into the back seat of the car and just breathed for a moment.

Once the car started to move John just begged for the ride to be a silent one. Though he felt more awake, more himself he was still not in the right frame of mind to talk to anyone, it was too much like hard work. To form words into sentences and act like everything was okay, when really his whole life had become one fucked up mess in just over a week.

"Long flight?" The driver asked after nearly ten minutes of silence.

"Yeah...too long." John shifted in his seat and looked outside for a while again begging for silence.

It took another forty minutes to get to the place John was now to call home.

As the car turned off the main road and down a street of very expensive looking house John frowned and sat up even more.

"You sure this is the right place?" He asked looking to the driver as he pulled up outside a very nice looking home. It was mostly white with black painted wood around the door and windows, the lawn was well kept with a winding path leading to the front door.

"This is the address you gave me." The man answered exiting the car and started to grab things from the boot and taking them to the front door.

Getting out of the car John once again went inside the envelope holding his new life and pulled out the keys to the house.

Grabbing the last few bags from the car he made his way down the path his heart beating slightly faster as he pushed the key into the lock and opened the front door.

Once the door was open the cabbie put the bags he held just inside and turned to John.

"Nice place." He said with a smile his hands on hips.

"Yeah." John agreed taking in the modern interior. "How much do I own you?"

"Make it an even sixty mate."

John quickly paid and then he was on his own for the first time in thirty hours.

Leaving the bags by the door he quickly locked up and then just walked around.

The house was amazing, it was beautifully modern with all the mod-cons he could ask for, he even found a laptop, tablet and phone waiting for him. The phone had a card detailing his new number and when he opened it up he found that three numbers where already  logged, his sisters, Mycroft's and one other that held no name.

Putting the phone down he ignored it and walked into the kitchen which was stunningly sleek and white, nothing like Bakerstreet, which was old dark and green.

Feeling his chest tighten slightly as he thought of home...no not home, not anymore, he quickly left the kitchen and searched out the bedrooms.

The whole house was on one level and held in total three bedrooms.

The two smaller bedrooms both held double beds, one was blue in colour the other gold and cream. They both had a door leading to a shared bathroom that held a bath and shower.

When he opened the door to the master bedroom he paused on the threshold then closed the door without even stepping inside. He wouldn't be sleeping there, he couldn't, it was dressed in the wrong colours.

Heading back to the front door he picked up his main clothes bags and headed to the blue bedroom.

.~.~.~.

A few hours later found John stood outside looking over the pool within his garden that looked over the river which led to the city on one side and towards a park the other, it was a pretty stunning view but he didn't really see it. 

The hours spent on his own since arriving had caused the peace he had found to leave and the tiredness he had thought to be gone had returned.

He was lost.

He was alone.

He wanted to shout at the world.

He wanted to turn back time.

He wanted to still be in the water, the place that had become his new nightmare.

But above all else he wanted the one thing that has hurt him the most.

Lifting the bottle of beer to his lips he took a few mouthfuls and slowly let out a breath and allowed himself just for a moment to take in the view.

"So this is your new life Johnathan." He said bitterly before downing the rest of the beer. "Fine..." He pushed himself off the balcony railing and stood up straight, taking on the captain persona that had severed him well over the years.

He had to accept that his time with Sherlock was over, yes it would take time, yes it was going to hurt like hell and yes he will probably never stop loving him or hating him but it will get easier.

At least that was what he tried to convince himself.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakerstreet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More, though not as much pain, well still a bit, but more plot :D

Sherlock stood just outside off the black door of 221 his eyes just staring at the golden door knocker, his brain running through the last time he was stood here with John.

It was the night if the accident, the night John's heart had stopped beating for far too long, the night Sherlock finally stopped lying to himself.

Now he was about to enter his home a week after John had left, no not left, been sent away.

Sherlock had sent him away.

He had ripped John's amazing beating heart from his chest, tore it to a thousand pieces and then put what he could back before sending him on his way.

Pushing the door open Sherlock stepped over the threshold hold and without even stopping made his way up the seventeen to 221B.

Before he opened the door however he paused as his eyes travelled over the plain wooden door before him.

Something was wrong.

"You took longer than he thought." A voice came from behind him, from the stairs he had refused to look up.

Turning now he took in a man sat with a gun laid across his knees a cloth steeped with gun oil running over it in a way that showed how much the weapon was loved, cherished, in a way he had watch John clean his gun so many times.

Sherlock moved his eyes from the guy to the man’s face, close shaved, dark blond hair, clear grey eyes, dressed in expensive yet none descript jeans and shirt.

"So he got himself a pet."

Slowly Sebastian looked up and smiled a truly genuine smile of amusement.

"Maybe, but at least he has had me far longer than you were able to keep yours."

Sherlock’s mouth opened to respond but before a single syllable left his lips the door to his flat opened.

"Ah Sherlock, about time you showed up."

Turning, Sherlock stared into almost black eyes and felt his heart jump within his chest.

"Hello James."  


_Half an hour after he had left John, Sherlock found himself still covered in John’s blood and stood outside a room that held the thief that now held a lot of mystery._

_Mycroft had taken him to a facility used by the government to keep some of the most unsavoury people they had the privilege of catching, and that fact alone had Sherlock intrigued as to who this thief could be._

_Taking a breath he put his hand to the door and opened it._

_Inside the room was bare except for a table, plastic and secured to the floor. Two chairs where on either side of the table, and upon one of them was the thief._

_As Sherlock closed the door he didn’t for a second take his eyes off the man before him._

_Now that he was seeing him in the light, he took in every detail. He had short, shaved, brown hair, he was slightly tanned (fake) and his eyes where so dark they looked almost black, eyes he should have taken note of before, because even though he had had work done, changing his features there was no doubting who was before him._

_“Hello Sherlock.”_

_“It was no accident.” Sherlock stated._

_“Of course not dear, however, I do believe you now owe me a debt.”_

_“I think that debt is now null and void.”_

_“Really?” Dark eyes roamed over Sherlock and then locked onto the hands covered in blood, before looking back to Sherlock pale eyes. “Who’s blood are you covered in?”_

_“John’s.”_

_“Lie’s.” The man hissed._

_“No James, no lie here other than your face.” Pulling the spare chair back from the table, Sherlock sat and crossed his legs. “Nice work by the way.” He said motioning to James’s face._

_“Yes, well I only do go for the best. So what gave me away?”_

_“John…always John.”_

_James smiled a moment then looked back at the blood on Sherlock. “Where is he?”_

_Sherlock let his shoulder sag slightly, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “In the morgue.”_

_“How?” James demanded._

_“He was dead for a long time, his brain…It started to shut down…it…he fought, he pulled his tubes free…but it was only a last ditch effort on his bodies part. He was already gone, he was already dead.” Sherlock allowed his voice to fill with emotion, allowed himself just for a moment to feel everything from the last few days, allowed the lie to become reality, and in doing so his felt his heart break, felt the pain caused, with just the thought of losing John Watson._

_Tears came unbidden to his eyes but he quickly brushed them away before looking up at James Moriarty with a dark look._

_“You killed him.”_

_“No!” James, for his part sounded panicked, he had lost his leverage, his get out of jail card. “No, you lie, he is not dead.”_

_“Would I be here for any other reason? Would I leave him?”_

_The two stared at each other for a time before James slammed his hands down onto the table._

_“No!”_

_“Yes.” Sherlock stood and without another word walked to the door._

_“How is your heart?”_

_Sherlock paused, he stared at the door, taking in the plainness of it, the bland colour, and within it he saw his heart without John, he saw what it once was. Cold and unwelcoming, bland and boring._

_But now it was full of life, colourful and ready to burst if his feelings increased by even the smallest amount and he had to hide it, to keep up the pretence, because if he didn’t John would be gone and his heart would return to the bland boring door that was before him._

_“Dark…dark and burnt.” He whispered._

_“Hurts, doesn’t it?”_

_“Yes.” Sherlock’s voice broke then. Pulling the door open he slammed it close behind him._

 

The tension in the flat was touchable, Sherlock could feel it settling around him as he sipped at the tea made for him by the man sat across from him.

Sherlock had automatically gone to sit in his own chair when he had first entered the flat, but before he sat his eyes alighted upon John's chair. Feeling his already dusted heart shatter again, he turned and sat upon John’s chair leaving his chair for Moriarty.

"So, tell me Sherlock.” He paused as he took a sip of his own tea. “Where is he?"

"About a mile north, family plot. Buried next to his parents." Sherlock answered as he put his cup down. He kept his face blank, but he knew if Jim really looked, pain would be in his eyes.

"I see, and you truly expect me to believe that."

"Why does it matter what I expect you to believe?" He asked frowning slightly. "John die 70 days ago, he died covered in blood, in pain, in fear and it was all your doing!"

Moriarty watched Sherlock through guarded eyes a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You are good Sherlock, you really are. But I don’t believe you."

Sherlock reacted. Instantly he was on his feet his hand wrapped around Jim's throat just as a barrel of a gun was pressed around the back of his neck.

"Do it." Sherlock growled. "Do it, let him pull the trigger, let him end it because I don’t want to be here anymore!"

"Oh Sherlock." Jim said sadly as he placed a hand around the wrist of the hand holding him. "It would seem that even though the good doctor lives, I've still been able to burn you."

"John is dead, i held him as he died." Lie.

"Watched as the light left his eyes." Truth.

"Watched as the life left his body." Truth.

"Buried him next to his parents." Lie.

"And cried every day since he left." Truth.

"You can do whatever you want to me James, because nothing, nothing, will hurt as much as losing him hurts!" Truth.

Moriarty nodded slowly as Sherlock let go of his throat and Moran lowered the gun.

"Do your worse Jim, please, just end it."

"No." He said sadly and let out a breath. "No I won't end it, not until John is stood before you and you can truly know what it feels like for him to die."

"Then I guess I will see you in hell." Sherlock fell back into John's chair his chest heaving as he fought back tears, fought against the pain that laced through his body whenever he allowed himself to think about John.

"Possibly." Jim stood and brushed himself down and walked towards the door. "I will find him Sherlock."

"I already told you where he is."

"We shall see."

The door closed leaving Sherlock alone. After a few minutes he pulled his phone free and called his brother.

"I need a sweep done ASAP."

"A team is already on its way." Mycroft paused. "All is safe Sherlock do not worry."

Sherlock hung up not saying another word. He knew his brother wasn’t referring to him and he was grateful, but he was also hurting and right now all he truly wanted was for John's voice to fill the flat, for the sound of the kettle being switched on while John talked about his day and asked after Sherlock’s, he wanted to be selfish.

But his brother was right, John was safe and that was all that mattered.


	10. Last day in the Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, had this written a while ago and it is the end of my prewritten stuff. So updates might be a bit slower in coming now :( But i am no where near finished with this story :)

By the time Sherlock returned to the hospital to transfer John, a plan had been formulated and it was already underway.

Mycroft had leaked that John had die due to complications of drowning to the press and already social media was going crazy. John’s blog had crashed due to the overwhelming amount of people trying to get more information, even Sherlock’s website had gone down after receiving more hits in the last hour than it had in the years it had been up.

John had already been moved from his room to a more secure area, most of the staff had been told that he had die, but Doctor Stroud and Claire had been taken to one side and told of the situation and where now held accountable if any information about John being alive were given.

Claire had been offered a position as John’s private nurse, an opportunity she jumped at, while the doctor had been unable to accept such a position and had given permeation to realise his patient over to the Holmes family doctor.

When Sherlock entered the new room it was to find John awake but dazed. Claire was talking gently to him but as soon as he saw Sherlock he held his hand up.

“You weren’t here.”

“I know.” Sherlock said taking John’s hand leaning down to gently press a kiss to John’s forehead. “I’m sorry, I had…” He paused and reformed his words. “Something rather important came up and I had to go deal with it.”

John looked up as Sherlock pulled back slightly. “Jim…the thief…” Monitors started to go off as John started to have trouble breathing.

“Shh I know, it’s okay though, he’s locked up.”

“Okay, John I need you to get this breathing back under control.” Claire stepped forward silencing the monitors looked down at John with a frown. “I know you can do this, and I know its hard but I need you to get your stats back up or I will have to intubate you again.”

John’s grip on Sherlock’s hand increase but he tried to take control of his breathing. However after only a few steady breaths it all fell apart again and he started to lose control.

“Right, John I’m going to have to get a doctor to…”

“No, wait.” This from Sherlock. “Let me try something.”

Taking Johns other hand he placed both the smaller man’s hands on his chest.

“John I want you to copy me, breath when I do, in and out, slow and controlled.” Holding John’s hands to his chest he concentrated on his breathing. Breathing in slow and steady and doing the same on the exhale.

John at first, had his eyes squeezed shut as he tired with everything he had to control his breathing, but after feeling Sherlock breathing, feeling the slim man’s heart through his chest, John reopened his eyes and looked up.

“Sherlock?”

“Claire can you give us a minute?” Sherlock forced himself to look away from John and to the nurse on the other side of the bed.

“Sure, I’ll go wait in the ambulance.” With that she collecting her things and left the two men alone.

Sherlock looked back down to John to find him frowning. “What is going on?”

“First we are trying to get your breathing under control. Then we are moving you to the country.”

“I’m…not that ill.”

“No, but you are ill…” He paused. He wanted to tell John everything, to explain that they had, in the last hour caused the world to think that John was dead. He also wanted to tell him what he and Mycroft had come up with.

“What else is happening?”

Lifting one of his hands from John’s hands he gently cupped John’s face running his thumb over his cheek.

“Trust me.” John went to say something but Sherlock stopped him by leaning down and pressing his lips softly to Johns.

John tensed slightly causing Sherlock to second guess himself. Pulling back slightly he was about to apologise when John pulled on his shirt pulling him back down. “Do that again.”

Sherlock smiled before kissing him again, this time John responded.

The kiss was light, and Sherlock intended to keep it that way, to not excite John too much even though he had thought about doing this for a very long time.

When they parted John lent his forehead against Sherlock’s and just allowed himself to breath.

“Something bad…” John stopped to pull in more air. “Is about to happen, isn’t it?”

Closing his eyes Sherlock placed both hands on John’s face and pressed another kiss to his lips.

“It already happened.”

“What?”

Sherlock tensed this time and when he opened his eyes it was to find John staring right at him.

“You died.”


	11. Two years on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed since John had been sent to Australia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I am nervous about this chapter, I wonder how you guys will take it.  
> Anyways, here you go, hope you enjoy, let me know what you think.

The sun was setting, changing the sky from deep blue to pale blue and then to golds and oranges before becoming a darker blue that soon turned into a black canvas with pin pricks of light.

John saw none of this. All John saw was the clear water under him as he swam and swam until he had finished his fifty laps of his pool.

Once he was done he swam to the edge and just rested his arms on the side as he caught his breath.

In the two years since exile, John had taken up the habit of swimming. It was a good stress reliever as well as being easy on his shoulder and after only a few weeks of the exercise his leg had returned to normal once again, it was also free seeing as it was sat right in his back yard.

Once he caught his breath he pushed back from the ledge once again and just floated.

Above him the stars where now out in full force and as he took in the beauty of it, the stunning vastness of it His voice interrupted his calmness.

"What does it matter to me? You say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work.” 

Hitting his fist against the water he rightened himself only to pause as he spotted the person stood at the edge of the pool a smile on their face and towel in hand.

"Why is it you always forget a towel?" The man asked looking down at John was dark green eyes.

"Well any excuse to get you out here is a good enough reason." John answered swimming back to edge and looking up at the man before him.

"All you have to do is ask Jonathan." The man dropped the towel and started to undo the white shirt he was wearing, one button slowly coming undone before he moved onto the next.

"You know I won’t Ja." John watched with hooded eyes and when the last button came undone and Ja pushed the fabric from his shoulders John couldn't help but look.

Jason was stunning. Right from the beginning John had found the other attractive, with his deep green eyes, chocolate brown hair and skin tanned so deep John just wants to kiss and explore every inch of it just to see if it tasted as good as it looked.

Now as he stripped John couldn’t help but admire the toned body slowly being reviled before him.

They had been together just over three months, but had known each other a year. Ja was Australian born, but he had lived in England for a while as a teenager and then returned to Australia to go to Uni. Since leaving Uni he had travelled the world extensively before settling in Perth only a few years before John had been sent there.

Their friendship had been an instant thing, something John was at first weary of, but Jason was a charming man and he soon broke through John’s defences and they ended up spending most of their free time together, something Jason’s friends had joked about for months before the night John had given in and kissed him.

The whole relationship had the air of Deja Vue to it but John had pushed that thought, along with Him, firmly to the back of his mind.

Watching as Ja started to undo his trousers John suddenly pushed up on the ledge grabbed Ja’s hand and pulled him into the pool before he even had a chance to fully undress.

Both men found themselves under water and when they finally broke the surface they came together quickly.

John loved how Ja kissed, it was demanding and rough, he devoured John as though John was the best thing he had ever tasted and he just couldn’t get enough of him. John let him. He let him take control, he let him do as he wished because he needed it. He need to have that feeling of being wanted, the feeling of being needed, of being if not loved at least cherished and Ja gave him that.

As they kissed John helped Ja get rid of the clothes he still had on before wrapping both his arms around Ja’s shoulders and just allowing the other man to kiss every part of John’s face and neck that he could reach.

“I missed you.” Ja whispered against John’s neck his lips brushing over his pulse point.

“Two days Ja, you were gone for only two days.” John answered before shivering as Ja scraped his teeth over the spot he had just spoke against.

“Two days too many, I should never have to spend a night without you Johnathan.”

John’s heart skipped in joy at the same time that it contracted in pain. He hated the name Mycroft had given him, but he had stuck with it, never allowing others to shorten it, but with Ja he wanted to tell him, to let him of his past, to tell him that he was in exile at the same time as being in basic witness protection.

Yes, he knew Mycroft kept an eye on him, he had seen the cars, seen the agents, knew they reported back to Mycroft and probably Him as well, but he didn’t care. This was his new life and he was willing to at least put the past behind.

But still, he wished to hear his real name coming from Ja’s lips just once.

It was never going to happen.

Ja pushed John up against the side of the pool placing John’s arms onto the ledge. “Keep them there.” The man ordered, John raised an eyebrow but did as he was told.

Slowly Ja started to kiss down his neck once again, then ran his lips over his shoulder, over the scar he had received in Afghanistan, before going back to his neck and then moving down his chest. John gasped as Ja moved to his left nipple lapping at it with his tongue before gently biting it.

“Ja…” John itched to put his hand on Ja’s head, to run his fingers through the short hair, to pull on it slightly but he kept still and just let the man before him do as he will.

Feeling Ja’s hands on his hips John let his head fall back as those hands moved to grab his ass.

“Up.” Ja demanded and pushed John up out of the pool to sit on the edge. “Hips up.”

Laughing John led back and just as he went to lift his hip’s a sound he knew all too well rang out.

Freezing for less than a second John quickly sat up and then froze again as he took in the picture before him.

Ja had sunk below the water, below water that had turned from clear to red in a matter of seconds.

“No…”

“John!” A voice shouted within the house but John couldn’t take his eyes from the pool. “John…John, we have to move!”

Arms grabbed him and instantly his reflexes took hold. In seconds he had the intruder on his back.

“Who are you?” John demanded.

“Agent Marks. I work for Mycroft.”

“Prove it.”

“He once offered you money to spy on his brother, you refused.”

John knew only Mycroft and Him knew that story so slowly he let the other man go.

“Ja…”

“No, he is already dead, we have to go.” John watched as the other man stood and then grabbing the towel from the side he pulled John into the house shoving the towel against John’s chest. “Pack, quickly.”

John moved without instruction from his brain, he moved on automatic. Walking to his room he reached under his bed and pulled free a bag he always kept packed before taking off his wet swim wear and putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He also took a gun he had purchased from its spot in his bottom draw, loaded it, made sure the safety was on and put it down the back of his jeans.

As he exited the bed room he looked to the agent stood by the door and tilted his head.

“So I guess Moriarty found me.”

“It would seem so. Mycroft has instructions.”

“Course he does.” John stopped in the hall to pull on his shoes before picking the bag back up and nodding to the door. “After you.”

As they left, John tried not to think about the body in the pool, tried not think about how for just a short time his life had been better, had stated to come together, about how he had been happy.

No, instead John only thought one thing.

There was no way he was ever going to forgive Sherlock for this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look another chapter :), oh but its only a short chapter :( oh but still yay!!!
> 
> Anyways you might find the next few chapter will be short until i get John and Sherlock together once again and that is when the really fireworks begin and not all of them good...well hardly any of them good but still :D
> 
> this chapter starts a few weeks after John first arrives in Australia and ends present day :)
> 
> enjoy x

John took a long pull on the bottle in his hand all the while leaning on the cane as he looked at the pool before him.

It had been three weeks since he had arrived in Australia, three weeks since he had left the house, three weeks since he had felt sober, three weeks since he had felt alive.

Now he stood with a bottle of Australia's finest whiskey in hand and the only thought in his mind was to return to the water, to return to the depths that had taken his life and to let it take it again.

Letting the cane fall from his hand he raised the bottle once again to his lips and drank the dark burning liquid down before dropping the bottle, not caring as it shattered on the ground, and stepped forward.

The water engulfed him, soaking his thin pyjamas instantly and cutting of his sense of smell and hearing. As he let the water drag him down he closed his eyes and became lost in his own misery hoping it would be enough to hold him down, to keep him sinking and not allow him to reach for the surface.

His body had other ideas.

As his lungs started to burn for air his muscles kicked in, to force him to the surface, fighting against his brains commands to stay, to just stopped, to give in and end it all.

After only being in the water for a minute he broke the surface and gasped pulling in the air his body desperately wanted.

Shouting out in anger and frustration John kicked and splashed in the water not caring if he looked like a child throwing then world's biggest temper tantrum.

Finally his body still and he just floated on his back looking up at the thick grey clouds wanting nothing more than for them to finally burst and rain down on him.

He didn't have to wait long. As the first drop landed on his forehead he let his eyes close and sighed as the rain fell hard.

As he led in the warmth of the pool water being pelted by the cold rain he was surprised at how refreshed he started to feel. It was like he was being cleansed, as though the rain was stripping away all the layers of pain and loathing that he had built around him.

Opening his eyes he continued to just lay there and slowly he felt the stirring of something deep inside his chest. Grasping hold of that feeling, he held onto it allowed it to grow but stopped it when it starts to feel too much.

"That's it now, enough, enough of this." Moving in the water he stripped his soaked clothing from his body throwing it to the side before he started to swim and swim all the while the rain fell and continued to strip John down till all that was left was the man broken but willing to recover.

~.~.~.~

John stared out of the window watching as they headed towards the city taking in the lights and trying with all his might to push the sight of blood staining water from his mind, while at the same time holding onto the feeling of Ja's lips still upon his.

Running a finger over his bottom lip he closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

"Sir?...yes sir...yes he is fine...no, no injury of the physical type...the other, head shot...yes sir...already dispatch a clean-up-"

John reached out taking the phone from Agent Mark's hand and putting it to his ear.

"Jason had family and friends who cared about and loved him very much. You don’t just make this disappear, you don’t just make him into a missing person. You sort this so his family can say good bye. Do you understand Mycroft?"

There was a pause on the other side of the phone and then a voice that was definitely not Mycroft’s answered.

"I understand John."

John dropped the phone.

Agent Marks gently picked the phone up from where it had fallen on John’s lap and put it back to his ear.

"Sir? Yes of course sir, I will personally see to it."

John's heart had gone from steady to super speed within his chest and his anger had gone from simmering to boiling in less than a second.

"How long?" John askes through gritted teeth.

"Sir?"

"How long has Moriarty known of my whereabouts?"

Agent Marks suddenly looked nervous. "We are not sure, but we have had Intel for a few days now."

"So why wasn't I moved before now."

"I...I can't answer that."

Slowly John nodded. "Where ever it is your friend there is taking us tell him to change it to where ever Sherlock is."

"Mr Holmes is in London."

John turned to look at Marks.

"Then it's a good thing I have my passport on me."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear, dear readers, how are you all? Happy I hope at seeing an update, even if I am about to add more angst into your lives ;)
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the little bit of a wait I have given you all but it was all for a worthy cause, Uni work had to come first, but now i am free yay!!!! well at least until after Christmas :D
> 
> Right well, a big thank you for every Kudo, sub, and comment I have received, it is you guys that keep me going :D

The water upon his face was cool and though socking it was also soothing.

Word had gotten to him that John had boarded a plane in the last hour, his destination London. It had been a shock to his system when John’s voice had come over the phone, full of hurt, anger and passion for the man that had just been killed before. It had ripped at Sherlock’s dusted heart.

The years since John had left had been without doubt the worst of his life, and yet he went on. He had been able to find and destroy a few of Moriarty’s crime cells, some of which had fallen easily but the last had not been without some hardship.

Looking up Sherlock looked into the mirror before him, taking in the pale skin, dark hair, colourless eyes. All the things he knew caused others to find him attractive until he opened his mouth. Only John had even liked him for what he said, the only one to ever complement him, to praise him for what he said rather than looking disgusted or mortified.

“Sherlock?” A voice asked as a knock sounded on the door.

Straighten he winced slightly as his still healing back protested at the stretch. Picking up a towel he dried his face and threw it in the hamper.

“Sherlock?” Came the voice again, this time with more insistent knocking.

Opening the door he smirked as his brother jumped slightly and took a step back.

“What?”

Mycroft straightened his suit and huffed slightly as he held out a file. “I thought you would like this.”

“What is it?” He asked taking hold of the file and opening it his eyes closing for a second.

“Jason Mark Dent. Thirty-seven years of age, has done very well in his sector of business and recently returned from Singapore.”

“That was how Moriarty found him.”

“We believe so.” Looking through the file Sherlock stopped at a transcript and huffed out an aggressive sigh as he slammed the file close.

“You were meant to be watching him!” Sherlock suddenly roared.

Rolling his eyes Mycroft turned, heading towards the table and chairs set up in the room by the large bay window and sat down crossing his legs.

“We never stopped watching John, not once has he been totally on his own. When his…friendship started with Jason all precaution was taken, every background check was made and Jason held no threat to John. It just so happens that on his last trip away to a country he has had many dealings with before, he came across one of Moriarty’s many agents and he talked about John…about Johnathan after the man had seen a picture upon Jason’s phone. Of course all of Moriarty’s agents know of John, they know what he looks like and so it is no surprise that sooner or later one of them would spot him. It just happened to be sooner than we thought.”

Walking to the table Sherlock put the file on the table before standing by the window and just looking outside. Since his return a week ago he had stayed at Mycroft’s home in London, not wanting to return to Bakerstreet, not wanting to have Mrs Hudson fussing over him while he healed.

“John sounded…did he love him?”

Mycroft laughed. “No Sherlock, John never loved Jason. Cared for him, certainly, but I do not for one second believed that he loved him.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons, but only one proves it to me.”

“What?”

Turning in his seat, Mycroft looked at his brother as Sherlock turned to look at him. “He wasn’t you.”

 .~.~.~.~.

The water upon his face was cool and though shocking it was also soothing.

Grabbing a paper towel John dried off his face before balling up the towel and throwing it into the bin. Looking up at himself within the mirror he was slightly surprised at how well he looked even though he had just seen someone he deeply cared about die right before him, die just moments after they had kissed.

Yet again he lifted his finger to his lower lip, tracing it with the pad of his finger, holding onto the feeling with all his might of Jason’s last kiss.

Tears had yet to find him, his grief held at bay by a slowly building anger that he knew could only be held for a short amount of time. He wondered who it was that anger would be released upon, Sherlock or Mycroft. Part of him thought it to be Sherlock but he already knew that it would more than likely be the elder Holmes, after all that was what Mycroft did, he protected Sherlock, from everything.

Still with his finger upon his lip he turned, opening the slim bathroom door and exited back into the main body of the plane, slowly making his way back to his first class seat (courtesy of Mycroft of course).

They had been in the air for the last three hours, only an hour or so to go before landing in Malaysia and then boarding the next plane which would take over thirteen hours to get to London. It was plenty of time to let his mind race, to let his anger continue to burn and let himself prepare for what was to come. Because not only was he about to see the one person to ever hurt him he knew that together he and Sherlock had a job to do, together they needed to find Moriarty and kill him.


	14. Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I am so sorry.

The knock on the door was an unwelcome one to say the least. Every night for the last week had the knock came and every night did John ignore, not tonight though tonight John had enough.

Getting up from the sofa he ran his hand through his hair a few times as he walked to the front door, all intention to tell who ever was on the other side to do one, but he paused as green eyes brightened and a smile spread across a rather attractive face crowned by chocolate coloured hair.

"Hi!" The man said beaming.

"Hello..." John replied with a frown.

"I knew it, differently a pom!" The man continued to smile then held out a hand. "I'm Jason, though most call me Ja."

John hesitated then took hold of the hand offered.

"Johnathan."

"Brilliant, nice to finally meet you Johnathan. I've been coming around most nights to introduce myself, but you must have been out."

"Yeah."

"Thought as much, word of advice though. I would make sure to turn off your lights and TV before you leave, awful waste of energy."

John stared at Ja a moment then suddenly laughed. It was a strange feeling as the laugh turned into softer giggles, giggles he hadn't heard from himself in quite a while.

"I'll remember."

Ja continue to smile as John laughed, not at all taking offence to the obvious fact that John had been ignoring him for the past week.

"So I just wanted to make you welcome, this neighbourhood is pretty friendly and we are having a get together at my place on Saturday. Thought would like to come round and have a few...beers or whatever."

"Umm yeah, not going to happen. Not really the social type." He winced internally at his words. "Thank for the invite though." "Sure, but you know if you change your mind, I'm the big grey house just down there." Ja pointed down the road and John followed, leaning out the house slightly to see where Ja indicated.

"Right...but sorry-" He turned back not realising how close he had gotten to Ja until he looked at the other man. Only a foot or so was between them now, and damn did the man smell good, making John suddenly aware of his own state of dress. He had been sat in the same slouch pants and t-shirt for the last twenty four hours and he was sure he didn’t smell anywhere near as good as Jason did.

"Sorry?" Ja prompted.

"Sorry...right yeah, sorry won’t make it."

All the while Ja never once stopped smiling.

"Sure, well I guess I'll see you around Johnathan."

"Yeah."

Ja turned giving a small wave as he left leaving John to stare after him.

When Saturday came around John found himself stood in front of his wardrobe after his afternoon swim, with a choice to be made before him. He could just get into his everyday slouch wear or he could put on his best pair of jeans and the button down black shirt he had bought on a whim but had never worn.

Biting his bottom lip he narrowed his eyes slightly in annoyance as Sherlock huffed behind him.

"Another date John? Must you really? There has been a murder that can only be solved with your help."

Pulling the shirt free he pulled it on and did up the buttons as he turned to the man his mind so helpful produced.

"Fuck you Sherlock, this is not a date, and you never needed me." As he looked up the image faded with Sherlock looking more frustrated than hurt.

Growling slightly John quickly finished dressed before running his fingers through hair that he had allowed to grow, taming it slightly before spraying on some cheap cologne and headed towards the front door.

Before he opened the door though he paused and looked down at his shaking hand.

"No...don’t, don’t do that." Clenching his hand into fist he squeezed his eyes shut. "This is stupid."

Turning he went to get changed again, this time into his sleepwear when someone knocked on the door.

Turning he looked at the door contemplating on whether to answer or not when the knock came again.

Walking to the door he opened it and a feeling he hadn’t expected came over him at the sight of Jason.

"Hi!" Ja said in his usual way. "Thought I would ask one more time before giving up. But you must have other plans."

John looked down at himself before shaking his head.

"I umm."

"Well where ever your going or who ever she is, they are lucky to have you."

John blushed, he couldn't help it, it was the first time for a while since he had been complimented.

"Well then, you a one very lucky man, I was just about to head to yours."

Jason suddenly lit up his smile intensifying and John had the sudden urge to keep it there, to have those green eyes sparkle all the time.

"Fantastic!" Ja stepped back allowing John to leave the house and locking the door behind him.

That night John spent most of his time being introduced to his fellow neighbours, but come midnight after most of the guest had left he spent the rest of the night just talking to Ja.

They became inseparable after that.

Ja spent a lot of time travelling but when he was home he either ended up at John's or John stayed at his.

John knew something deeper was happening between the two of them, he knew Ja had fallen for him, knew that Ja held back waiting for John to make the first move. But John fought it, he held himself back, never allowing himself to fully fall, to even think about what he wanted with Ja.

That was until after a year of knowing each other, he had been watching a live football match at Ja's seeing as the man had the world’s biggest TV and also he was able to get English channels showing the match live rather late at night.

"Tea?" Ja asked as he stood and stretched briefly showing off a thin line of flat toned stomach. John held himself back from licking his lips and nodded.

"Please."

When Ja return he placed his own cup next to his chair and walked to John who was sat on the sofa, holding the cup out to him.

As he reached out to take the cup John grabbed the mug with one hand while the other wrapped around Ja's wrist.

"Johnathan?"

John put the mug on his own little table then pulled Ja down forcing the man to straddle John's thighs.

"Johnathan, only do this is you want to."

"I'm fed up of letting my past get in the way and i am fed up of fighting against what i want!" As he spoke John started to kiss up soft tanned skin covering Ja's neck, while his hands moved to hips, which were warm and not at all bony, pulling Ja down fully and moaning as he finally pressed his lips against Ja's.

Feeling Ja shudder John deepen the kiss opening mouth slightly and delighting as Ja took full advantage and dipped the tip of his tongue into John’s mouth.

Pretty soon the tea was forgotten as was the football match. All that matter was John feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest as Ja trailed hot sweet kisses down his chest and across his stomach. It had been far too long since John had felt this, since he had felt his body come totally alive, since he had allowed himself to at least start to feel something other loathing, anger and pain.

Gasping as Ja took him into his mouth John curled his fingers into soft chocolate hair and watched as Ja took him fully and then slowly lifted off.

"Bloody hell." John muttered as Ja licked the tip of his cock.

"Have I ever told you how much I love it when you curse like that?" John went to answer but the other man sucked him back down again and all coherent thought was lost.

When John came it was hard and long, the sensation coursing right through him leaving him floating in a sea of total bliss.

Soft kisses to his face and lips slowly brought him back and when he opened his eyes, for just the shortest amount of time an image of another replaced Ja, an image he had held onto for the longest time, of pale colourless eyes shining brightly down at him, that image was instantly replaced by deep green eyes so full of something John did not wish to name just yet, but he appreciated all the same.

Pulling Ja down he kissed the other man thoroughly and then broke him apart one piece at a time till all that Ja could say was John.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, this last week has been pure hell :(
> 
> But I managed a chapter, its crap, its boring, I'm sorry. But it will lead to bigger and better things I promise x

London was foggy and pretty much raining and dogs as the plane landed, and dispite the early hour it was dark making John feel right at home.

Australia had never lent its weather to his moods, he was mostly stuck with deep blue skys and extremely warm days. Only that once did the weather respond to John's mood, stripping him of his grief and depression.

Now as he stood waiting for one of Mycrofts minions to pull up before him, he took in a slow deep breath and just let the smell of England, of London, to fill him, making him feel as though he was finally home.

"Sir?"

John opened his eyes, not realising till that moment that he had closed them. Frowning he took in agent Marks before raising an eyebrow.

"Thought I left you in Aus."

Marks smiled and shrugged. "Was ordered to follow, so I did."

"How was economy?" John asked as another agent picked up his bag and put it in the black car as Marks opened one of the car doors.

"Cramped, but I've had worse."

As John settled into the back of the car he tried not to let what was coming to get in the way of the slight feeling of happiness he had at being back home. He was glad to be back, he just wished it was under different circumstances.

"So where are we heading?" John asked Marks who was sat beside him.

"Mr Holmes asked for you to be taken straight to his."

John allowed small amount of his pent up anger to leak through his voice when he spoke again.

"Would that be Mycroft or Sherlock you are referring to?"

Marks winced slightly. "Sorry sir, it was Mycroft."

"Right. So...pass it over."

"Sir?"

"Oh for the love of god, stop calling me sir, and give me the envelope you have in your jacket, i want the phone that is inside of it."

"How..." Marks shook his head and just pulled the envelope from his jacket and passed it to John. "Sherlock must have rubbed off on you."

John paused half way to taking the envelope. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you have the same knack as him, seeing everything."

"He sees a hell of a lot more than me."

"Maybe, but you see more than most." 

Finally taking the envelope, John opened it and tipped the phone onto his hand switching it on before pulling free the files within. The main file was a break down of Moriarty’s current activities,  his wear about's and dealings. Another was a detailed run through of what Mycroft and been doing and another detailed Sherlock’s activities in the last two years.

"Why should it matter what Mycroft and his brother have been up to?"

"Sherlock has been slowly breaking down Moriarty’s Web. But with the man still alive it has been difficult." Marks pulled free Sherlock’s file and flicked through it a moment before landing on a page and handing it back to John. "This was his last case, he got pretty beaten up."

John looked down at the file for only a second before closing it and shoving everything back into the envelope. 

He could feel Marks watching him as he turned to look out the window, the image of a beaten bloody Sherlock now clearly etched upon his retinas.

"He has healed up pretty nicely, or so I'm told. He arrived back a week ago, he has been staying at Mycroft's."

"Tell me Marks, why should I care?"

"I...sorry, I just thought you would want to know."

John turned to the agent his anger now very much on the surface and very much wanting to be freed.

"The man you call your boss and his brother mean nothing, they are now simply a means to an end."

"What end?"

"The death of Moriarty."

.~.~.~.

John had hoped to at least get to settle in his room, maybe have a shower, or at least a decent cup of tea, before being confronted by one of the Holmes brothers. 

Hope was never something to hold onto.

As soon as he walked through the entrance way into Mycroft's home he came face to face with the owner himself.

"John."

John waited, he waited for the anger to break free, waited for the tidal wave of hurt caused by the man before him to take over, but it never came.

"I'm not sure I have much to say to you right now."

"No, you must be tired from your flight." 

"Yes...I wouldn't count on that holding me back later though."

"Of course not." Mycroft waved to a man standing just by the stairs. "This is Christopher. He will show you to your room and get anything you need."

John laughed. "Of course you have a Butler." 

Mycroft smiled in the way he does when he finds what other people find amusing stupid.

"Yes, well please make yourself at home while you are here."

"Where is your brother?"

John smiled as Mycroft shifted slightly, the only sign of his discomfort.

"Sherlock is currently asleep. He hasn't slept since he heard of..." John's breath caught and he was glad Mycroft stopped short of saying 'the shooting'. "He will be a few doors down from yours."

"Right. I'll be sure not to wake him."

John followed behind the Butler as he led him through Mycroft's rather impressive house. It wasn’t as big as the Holmes estate but still it was rather awe inspiring.

As they reached the top floor Christopher walked pass three doors before stopping at the last room.

"Here you are Dr Watson."

John paused. No one had called him that is a very long time. He had been Johnathan Wallace or Dr Wallace for the last two years and hearing his real last name was a little shock to the system.

"Thank you Christopher."

The man left John alone after placing his bags just inside. Closing the door John's walls fell. Falling down the door till he was sat on the floor his left hand started to shake and his legs ached. Taking a breath he tried to hold back the tears threatening him, tried not to let the thought of Sherlock just down the hall, recovering from what had been done to him, tried not to think of the British government down stairs controlling everything and really really tried not think about Jason. 

It didn't work.

The images of Sherlock from the file fell across his minds eye along with Jason led face down in the water, blood colouring it red. 

With the pain of loss running through him the wall holding back the anger started to give and suddenly he was on his feet through the door and opening the next door and then the next until he stood staring at the man that had caused it all that had caused him to become what he was, that had caused him to finally break.

Eyes of indescribable colour slowly lifted till they landed on John and all John could do was stand there, staring, taking in everything that was Sherlock Holmes.

"John..."

John took a step back, causing Sherlock to stand from where he sat on the bed his hand starting to reach out.

"No...No John please..."

"You don't get to say no, you don't get to say please, and if you so much as ask me to stay I will punch you."

"Okay." Sherlock nodded dropping his hand. "All on your terms."

John growled, his fist clenching. "Fuck you."

Sherlock backed down, taking a step back.

"I'm..." he paused then sighed reading John like a book. "I cant say that either."

"To fucking right. You don't get to say anything!" John shouted the last as he turned slamming the door closed before stalking over to the window. He could feel Sherlock watching him be he refused to turn to look at him.

"Would...do you want some tea?" 

John nodded, not saying a word as he gently ran his fingers over his lips still very much holding onto his last bit of happiness.


	16. Chapter 16

The tea arrived via Christopher's hand, a pot and two mugs (not cups) placed upon a tray which Sherlock knew cost far more than most of the furniture in the room.

John hadn't moved from the window and every time Sherlock chanced a glance in his direction he still had his fingers pressed against his lips as though he was trying to hold onto a thought or something.

"Still no sugar?"

"No." Sherlock pored the tea into the mugs before adding milk to both, then sugar to his own. 

Picking Johns mug up he slowly walked over to the silent man and held the mug out as he cleared his throat. John slowly lowered his hand from his lips and turned to Sherlock, first looking at the mug then up at Sherlock.

"Ja hated tea, he never kept tea bags in his home, not until I asked for tea one day and when he was unable to make me one he specifically went to the store to buy some. Sure it was cheap and it was frankly the worse cup of tea I have ever tasted. But I drank it and i continued to drink it, every single awful cup because he made sure to always have it in, just for me." Sherlock waited, his heart beating so slowly in his chest he was sure it had stopped, along with his breath that really didn't seem to want to come.

"I knew, of course I knew. He fell so quickly and I faught him every single step of the way and he broke me down with every single god damn crappy cup of tea." John took hold of the mug making it obvious that he didn't want to even brush fingers with Sherlock. Sherlock lowered his hands watching John as he looked down at the tea. "You always make perfect tea, when you made it that is. Even that very first time it was like you knew exactly how to make it, how I liked it."

John put the mug down without taking a sip then looked at Sherlock and all Sherlock could do was stand there caught so throughly by deep blue eyes.

"You loved him." Sherlock muttered.

"No." John replied sadly.

"No?" Sherlock’s hope rose. "But I thought..."

"You thought wrong. Because how could I love him when I never once, not for one second stopped loving you."

Sherlock really did stop breathing then, but he knew that this would not be an easy fix. He knew John was angry, hurt, but he was also extremely upset, as though his very world had been destroyed.

"Then why are you so upset?" He knew it was a stupid question, but he needed to know.

"Why?" John turned away to look back out the window. "Because I never got a chance to love him, I never allowed myself that chance because I had to be in love with someone that not only sent me away, but with someone who broke my heart and ripped my very soul to shreds." He sighed shaking his head. "I hate you for that! I hate that I love you and I hate that I could never give my love to anyone other than you because truly Sherlock, you are undeserving of it!" John's voice never rose, it stay quite, almost calm but the words hit Sherlock like a train at full speed. "I will not allow myself to be hurt again, I will not allow you to hurt me, not after everything and not after I lost someone who could have given me everything you couldn't. When this is over and Moriarty is dead that is it, I leave. You don't follow, your brother does not follow and you will never ever interfere in my life again."

John turned to him then and the hate in his eyes mixed with pain and dare he say it love, was a combination that was far too much for Sherlock to bare. 

Finding it suddenly hard to think, to breath to do anything other than fall to his knees he did just that. John for his part never moved. He just watched Sherlock fall, watched as the man he would never stop loving, came undone with tears slowly making their way down his face.

"John..."

"You did this Sherlock, you did all of this, you made it easy for Moriarty. No wonder he changed the game, you gave up far too easily, played your part without even a fight. You burnt your own heart and he just sat back and watched." Sherlock never saw him move, never saw him kneel before him and only came too when for the first time in two years John touched him. 

Soft fingers ran over his cheeks while thumbs wiped at tears and soft pressure made him look up. Having John  right before him,  holding his face, being gentle with him was not something he thought to ever feel again.

"Do you know what hurt the most, what caused the most damage when i came to finally realise everything?"

Sherlock knew what was coming, it was something he thought of often, something he had come to deeply regret since he had done this.

"You planned this, you planned all of this. You left me while I was still in hospital,  confronted Moriarty and planned on breaking me apart before we had even shared our first kiss." John lent forward and at first Sherlock thought he was just going to lean his forehead against his own but instead John kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, soft, warm, barley a touch as his lips brushed gently against his. More tears started to gather and fall as pain spread from his center and out. This was it, this would be the last time he got this, the last time he would feel this because never again would John Watson give him anything other than hate.

Grasping at Johns coat he pulled him closer causing the both of them to over balance and John ended up pinning him to the ground, the whole time this kiss just intensified until they were both gasping for air and John ended up breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead aginst Sherlock’s. 

"I wont do that again." John got up and left the room the door slamming shut behind him. Sherlock stayed exactly where he was, his eyes closing as his world fell away.

 .~.~.~.

John lent his head against the door, his heart beating painfully in his chest while his finger nails cut into his palms as he clenched his fists.

He should never had done that, should never have touched, but seeing him like that falling apart he couldn't stop the part of him that still needed to comfort Sherlock to protect him from taking over. But then he had been harsh with his words as well as with his actions and the part that truly hated Sherlock rejoiced.

He was totally fucked. 

Every cell in his body had sung as he had kissed Sherlock, they felt the connection to the other that was his equal, the part of him that he had been searching for his whole life. Now though they hurt, they cried, begged for John to return to the one that made him whole. He refused, he denied his very core the one thing that would make everything okay because if he caved now, or ever it would mean he would deny the hurt and pain caused by the other and he couldnt do that. 

Pushing away from the door he turned only to pause as he looked at Mycroft.

"Yes or no, did you allow Moriarty to kill Jason?"

"No." Mycroft stood from the chair he was occupying and faced John full on. "Our intelligence indicate that he was getting close but we had no knowlage of him finally finding you until it was too late."

"I wasn't the target though."

"No, the bullet hit Jason from the back, you where higher at the time so there was no way the sniper could have missed if you where the target."

John nodded his face showing nothing.

"All expensive have been paid for with regards to his funeral, his estate has also been taken care of and his family will be well looked after."

"What did you manufacturer in terms of his cause of death?" 

"Car accident, injuries too extensive to assetain what truly killed him."

John nodded again then allowed his eyes to close as he release he has just brushed away Ja's last kiss by kissing Sherlock.

"John..."

"I want my gun, I will be the one to kill Moriarty and when I do I am finished." He opened his eyes and looked Mycroft straight in the eye. "You will leave me alone as will your brother and if i see either of you again i will not hesitate to knock you out..." He pause thinking. "Or put a bullet between your eyes."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing simply stepped aside as John walked past him, heading to the room he had been given when he first arrived.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here begins the action.

Mycroft watched John disappear into his room a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding slowly leaving his chest. This plan may have saved John, but Sherlock had been right, it had destroyed the both of them.

Quietly opening the door to Sherlock’s room he quickly entered and went to his brother who was led on the floor, an arm thrown over his eyes.

"At least he didn't punch you. I half expected to find you bloody and bruised...well more bruised than you are."

"Not all hits a physical." Mycroft winced slightly at Sherlock’s voice, it was obvious that he had been crying, probably still was going by the small tremors running over the thin frame on the floor.

"True." Taking a seat on the bed Mycroft ran a hand through his hair before quickly setting right again.

"He is hurting, deeply, that much is obvious."

"Why are you telling me things I already know?"

He shrugs. "No idea. He did just threaten to kill me however...or maybe it was both of us, I am unsure."

Sherlock lowered his arm and looked up at his brother with tear stained eyes. "It was probably the both of us. The hell we have put him through, I can hardly blame him."

"Indeed. He has taken Jason's death rather hard."

"Sentiment...it is a hindrance."

"Yes." Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow. "So I see." He watched Sherlock as he slowly sat up, taking care not to pull his back more than he needed to.

"Some of the stitches have come free." Mycroft said taking in the blood stained shirt.

"I know." Sherlock said as he finally got to his feet.

"I'll call the doctor."

"No need." Both men turned to find John stood in the door way...no correction, both men turned to find doctor Watson stood in the doorway. "I'll see to it."

Mycroft turned to his brother who had gone paler than before and he looked terrified. "I think it best that I call another doctor John."

"No...its good, its all good." Sherlock said not taking his eyes from John but directly seeking to Mycroft. "What ever John deems best i will go with."

"Sherlock..."

"Mycroft." Sherlock turned to his brother and no other word was spoken, Mycroft got the message, he had already caused far too much damage, time for Sherlock to deal with this on his own. Standing he walk to the door his eyes holding John's.

"If you could get what I need to see to your brother's back."

"Why do you care John?" John suddenly smiled causing Sherlock to gasp and Mycroft to frown.

"Because I need him to find Moriarty, and I need him as fit as possible before we confront him. So I will tend to his back and all his other wounds while we do our job. After that..." he turned to look at Sherlock then. "Well, he already knows."

Mycroft looked from John to his brother and wished he could go back two years and change all this, to not have put the idea in his brother's head and to have involved John from the very beginning.

"I'm sorry John." John turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"You are two years far to late for that Mycroft."

"Yes, but it still needs to be said." He stood up straighter and nodded more to himself than anyone else. "I will have what you need sent up straight away."

"Thank you." With that Mycroft left the two men and went in search for Christopher.

.~.~.~.

John closed the door and pulled free his  phone.

"We leave tonight." He said unlocking the screen and then throwing the phone to Sherlock. "It would seem our man has come to us."

Sherlock caught the phone easily and read the message that simply read 'pool'.

"How do you know this is him?"

"Because the number is Jason's." John replied in a dead voice as he walked over to Sherlock and took the phone back.

"Shirt off."

"John, you really don't have to do this."

"I saw the pictures from your return, I've read your file, I know the extent of your injuries and your shirt is already starting to soak through. So shirt off and let me do my job." Sherlock hesitated only another moment before starting to undo his shirt.

As each inch of skin appeared John watched letting his eyes take it and a frown formed across his brow as scars he had never seen before appeared and where not mentioned in the file.

"What the hell Sherlock!" As the last piece of white shirt came undone and Sherlock gingerly removed it from his shoulders and back, John closed the distance between them his hand reaching out but stopping short of touching the other man.

"What happened to you?"

"I've been chasing Moriarty for two years John, accidents happen."

"Accidents?" His fingers closed the distance and gently ran over a scare around two inches long just below his left nipple. "This is a knife wound. How deep?"

"I was able to twist before it got too deep, only an inch."

"Only... this could have punched a lung."

"But it didn't." John looked up but quickly looked back down at finding Sherlock looking at him.

"This is a bullet wound." John moved his fingers to another scare on Sherlock's left arm.

"Yes, that one had me out of action for a while."

"It got infected, not as bad as mine." John unconsciously moved his shoulder. "But still bad."

"I wasn't really in the best place when it happened. I didn't get to a hospital straight away."

John nodded and started to take in the rest of the scares as well as the brusing still evident from what ever trouble the detective had gotten into last.

"This would never happened if..."

"Don't John." John looked up and really he wanted to growl like really growl but instead he smiled.

"I guess after this it will be easy for you, probably too easy but at least you will know how to look after yourself if you got hurt. After all I'll be long gone. It will no longer be my concern if you get yourself hurt, or dead."

John was rather proud at himself, the way he spoke, the dead calm in his voice not once wavering, but then Sherlock’s eyes did what they always did. They showed the pain caused by his words and John felt the guilt slowly build within him.

"No..." He said as he took a step back.

"No?"

"No, you don't do that, you don't get to feel pain for anything I say, you just stand there and take it, all of it!" His calm had slipped and now he was on the brink of shouting.

"He died because of you! You took him, you may as well have held the gun that shot him! Damn it Sherlock you have taken everything from me!"

The wall holding his anger at bay fall.

"I would have given you everything! I would have stayed, I would have followed, I would have healed ever knife wound, every bullet hole, every scrap ever bruise. I would have kissed the pain away and held you as you recovered. I would have been with you every step of the way, but instead you Sent Me AWAY!!!!"

"I..." Sherlock started but John never let him finish.

"NO!" John had moved away from Sherlock at this point and he was glad because he would have punched him if he had been any closer.

"Doctor Watson?" John spun and took in Christopher stood with all he needed to tend to Sherlock’s back. "Should I call another to tend to mister Holmes?"

John blinked a few times his breathing harsh and shallow as he tried to rain back in the anger that was slowly becoming an entity all of its own.

"No, I need him so I will fix him up."

"You don't have to John." He turned back to Sherlock his face a mask of stone.

"As I told your brother. I need you as fit as possible." He left unsaid that they only had a few hours before facing Moriarty but he knew Sherlock got the message.

"Very well, if you need anything more doctor Watson please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Christopher." John gave the Butler a forced smile and waited for him to leave before directing Sherlock to straddle a chair with his front rest against the back.

Taking in the supplies he was given he quickly pulled on some gloves and got to work.

Silence fell on the two as John worked and it gave John the chance to just be a doctor as well as building the wall back up to contain the anger still threatening to escape.

When he was done he cleaned as much blood from Sherlock’s back as best he could before taping down some gauz and then pick up a bandage.

"I wouldn't normally do this but seeing as we about to face who knows what, I'm going to wrap you up." Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John and nodded.

"It will probably hurt at first, but if any running is to be involved you will thank me."

"What ever you deem best John." With that John started to wrap Sherlock’s chest back and abdomen with bandages. He felt Sherlock breath catch several times but not once did he complain.

"Done...now go put on your best suit." John ordered as he pulled his gloves off and threw them with the rest of the medical trash. "We have a date with a phycopath and a pool."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here....

The journey to the pool was one that John, no matter how hard he tried, was one that he couldn't remember. He of course remembered leaving the house, but then nothing, until he stepped onto the pool side with Moriarty stood right there, as though he hadn't left the pool from the last time they had been there. Of course his face was still changed, but those eyes where exactly the same. They still had that same darkness that haunted John every moment just before he entered water. Those eyes had laughed at him as they watched him fall into the Thames two years ago, they had held no remorse no feeling other than glee and they where the reason behind John's fear of the water.

"Hope the setting is not too much for you Johnny boy?"

John shook his head. "Not at all, I think you will find I've become quite a good swimmer since last we saw each other."

Moriarty smiled in only the way he could, with it lighting up his whole face with the exception of his eyes.

"So I've been told....And dear old Sherlock, you really have been getting in my way of late. At least three of my main cells have gone down because of you."

"It would have been four." 

"Yes...but, I rather had the upper hand on the last one dont you think?"

Sherlock remained silent and though John had his back to him he knew his eyes where not at all following Jim but rather on him

"So what is the game?"

"The game? Oh the game is the same as it has always been John, however I am no longer the key player, that my dear falls to you."

"And what is my roll?"

Moriarty smiled again as he lifted his arms and slowly spun in a dance like motion.

"Your roll is to choose."

John needed no other explication, he knew exactly what he was being asked for, what his roll in the whole sordid affair was. Choose who hurt him the most and make a move.

Pulling his gun free, the gun he found left in his room while he left Sherlock to get dress he slowly stepped to the side so he could see both Sherlock and Moriarty then turned again and raised his arm.

John's hand was steady, of course it was steady,  it never shook when he held his gun. His gun was a part of him an extension of his hand, something so familiar, that even after two years it just felt right. This gun, in his hand had killed, it had wounded it had saved and right now it was aiming at a heart that had destroyed him.

"Do it." The Irish voice said with it's singsong lilt to it. "You know you want to." The last was whispered in his ear as Moriarty came to stand right behind him. 

"Kill him and it will all be over. You will be free and you can move on."

John looked from the heart he was aiming at to eyes so full of everything he wavered slightly, the gun shifting from it's target.

"No no." Moriarty’s hand slowly ran down John's arm to his hand and gently moved it back to where he wanted it. "Remember what he did John, remember the pain, the hurt, the rejection. Remember everything he did to you. He killed your friend, your lover. Jason would still be alive right now if Sherlock had kept you."

John held Sherlock’s eyes watching with fascination as Jim's words affected him. Watching as they changed colour every time he looked from Jim to himself.

"John, l'm sorry. I am so sorry." Sherlock said not moving a single inch. "I just need you to know that, I don't want your forgiveness, or anything really, I just need you to know."

John's resolve broke, he had stopped Sherlock from saying sorry every time he had gone to say it, knowing it could very well break him and it had.

His arm dropped, lowering the gun.

"John no, you cant let him get away with this, not after everything he did to you."

John spun quickly his arm coming back up and taking its new target.

"You did it, not him, you. You threatened to kill me, you searched for me, you gave the order to kill Ja, you! It was always you, ever bit of pain caused, caused by your planning, your manipulations, your men."  John didn’t hesitate, he pulled the trigger and then watched as everything around him went to hell.

Jim fell dead to the floor that much he saw before he turned back to Sherlock as the pool started to fill with laser lines. By the time he got to Sherlock, shots where being fired but John already had Sherlock pushed inside one of the changing cubicles, his body protecting him as much as possible.

"John no...no..."

"Its okay. It's all good. Mycroft's men are here." John held Sherlock tightly against the wall the wooden cubicle causing them to be in shadow. 

"I know but..." Sherlock grabbed John's arms. "Oh god."

John smiled, blood already filling his mouth. "It's fine..."

His legs went first and if Sherlock hadn't been holding him he would have fallen. As it was Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and slowly lowered him until he was cradled on Sherlock's lap.

"No, you can't, you where going to leave, but not like this."

"It's fine...seriously."

"Stop saying that! It's not fine! Nothing about this is fine!"

"Yes, it is." John smiled again then winced as the pain started. He wasn't sure how many times he had been shot but it was a few.

"Why? Why is it fine?" Sherlock demand, tears forming in his eyes as he lowered his head to John's. "How can it be fine?"

"Because like you...I would do anything for you to live." John was shaking now, though he wasn't sure if it was from the pain or from the coldness creeping its way through his body.

"Funny, the last time this happened I was terrified."

"You are not going to die John Watson! Do you understand?"

"Would...seem I've ran out of lives."

"MYCROFT!!!!!" Sherlock bellowed his eyes not once leaving John's. 

Slowly John lifted a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over pale skin covering a very sad face.

"I only ever told you once...is that enough...no..." He started to find it hard to breath, to think, to keep his eyes open, but he need to tell him. "'Lock...love...you."

"Oh god...I love you...please I love you, don't...no John, open your eyes!"

He did, just for a moment, he opened his eyes and just stared at Sherlock until he slipped into darkness.


	19. authors note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So

As a way of understanding what you, my lovely readers wish for, here is your chance to let me know.

Do you want John to live or die?

Still not saying it will have a happy ending though x


	20. So it ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard, it is painful and I hope you all enjoy it.

Sherlock stood at the door waiting. They had called it a minute ago but then something happened because the room burst into motion once again and now all he could do was listen as instructions where shouted and then as Mycroft joined him the doors burst open and both the Holmes brothers were forced to one side as John was rolled out and rushed up to surgery.

Once everything had calmed down a nurse walked up to the two men.

"His heart restarted, we have no idea how or why but we are now doing everything we can to keep it that way." She gave a soft smile one that was lost on both the brother's. "He is far from out of the woods, his recovery alone will take months and even after that it could be years before he is fully recovered from everything."

"What is the prognosis?" Mycroft asks softly.

"Well I can give you the damage but not how it will affect him fully. You will need to talk to the doctor about that."

"Very well." Mycroft nodded.

"He was shot five times."

Sherlock stumbled at that his legs suddenly tuning to jelly. Both the nurse and Mycroft steadied him and then he was forced to sit down before the nurse continued with what had been done to John.

"He has one bullet to the left upper thigh, it missed all major arteries but as far as we can tell it has shattered the femur."

No more running.

"Two bullets hit his lower back, we think they missed his kidneys but we are still not sure. One bullet pretty much hit his old wound and the fifth is lodged somewhere in his chest, as far as we can determine it missed his heart but ripped through his left lung and there is massive internal bleeding in his chest cavity, which is why he has been rushed for surgery."

"Thank you. Please have it known that no matter what, John Watson is to receive the best of care, call in anyone you need and I will cover all expenses."

"I will." The nurse looked down at Sherlock and place a hand in his shoulder. "He restarted his own heart, he must have a lot to live for to do that."

Sherlock looked up his eyes blurry with tears.

"Probably just wants to kick my ass all over again."

The nurse smiled and squeezed slightly before leaving the two brothers.

"He will still leave." Sherlock said leaning back in his chair. "He will wake up, tell us both to fuck off and once better will more than likely leave London and I will never see him again."

"But he will live."

"Yes...He will live."

"Go take a shower and change." Mycroft said holding out a small black bag to his brother.

Standing Sherlock took the bag without argument but didn’t move, instead he looked at his brother and for just a moment he let all his guard down.

"He was going to shoot."

"I...I didn’t think he would."

"You couldn't see his eyes, the pain within them, and the determination. He hates me Mycroft, he hates me more than anyone I have ever upset before and there is no way he will just forgive it, and I don’t want him to. Because he was right, about everything. If we had just told him, let him in rather than sending him away none of this would have happened. He would never have lost Jason, would never have met him...We would have destroyed Moriarty’s network together and tonight would never have had a chance of happening."

He started to laugh. "We did all of this Mycroft. We, the two smartest people in the country, and it could not have gone more wrong! How did we not see? How did we let this happen?"

"We never let anything happen Sherlock, we try to see what could be, walk the path of logic and fact. We determined at the time that John leaving would have been the best course of action."

"No."

"No?"

"Not we, you, you planted the idea. You came up...damn it Mycroft!! Simply this should never have happened!!!"

Mycroft sighed and just fell onto the chair Sherlock had vacated.

"I know, and though nothing can be done to change it, I wish I could."

"Wishing will not have John staying."

 

The wait for John to wake was a long one. It took nearly three weeks for the doctors to even contemplate waking him, and then it took another week for John to wake on his own.

It was painful for all to watch John wake. His first instinct had been to search for comfort and he had called out to Ja, an action that had ripped at Sherlock’s heart, but he stayed, watched as Greg helped the hospital staff to calm him down.

It had been agreed upon by the brothers that Greg would be the best to have around when John woke, a friendly face to help if needed.

Sherlock hated it, he hated that he could not go to John, to comfort him, to help. Instead he stood away and just watched as his heart beat hard and fast.

.~.~.~. 

"Ja...Greg..." John frowned breathing hard. "Greg?"

"Yeah mate."

His eyes searched Greg’s face for a moment as doctors and nurses made sure he wasn't going to crash anytime soon.

"Fuck..." He suddenly said as pain laced through his body. "Oh god...what...I don't."

"Doctor Watson I'm going to up your pain meds just relax and they should kick in soon." A nurse said as she pushed in a stronger dose of morphine.

John wanted to laugh. Relax? He had just woken in a hospital with Greg, who lived in London, stood close by and all those around him spoke with an English accent and yet he was sure he should be in Australia and it should be Ja with him not Greg.

"What the hell is..." John felt the pain meds kick in but he was still confused. "Where is Ja?"

"Ja?" Greg asked before looking behind him slightly. John followed his line of sight and upon seeing Sherlock every single alarm around him went off as his heart rate increased and his breathing went haywire.

"No... Not you, you get out!" John shouted, his strength coming from somewhere deep within him. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"John, easy." Greg urged but all John wanted was to get out of the bed and shove Sherlock out of the door. Grabbing at the IV lines he started to pull but many hands started to hold him down stopping him.

"Ja...Jason you killed him! You sent me away and you fucking killed him!" John screamed and it was at that point that the staff told Sherlock to leave and John was sedated.

.~.~.~. 

As soon as he exited the room Sherlock slid down the wall till he was crouched, his hands going into his hair.

He had known it would be too much to ask of John, to allow him a chance. It was clear now, more than ever, that John would never give it.

Standing back up he took a few steadying breaths before heading down the hall.

"Sherlock!" He stopped turning to Greg.

"Tell him he won’t ever have to see me again, tell him I respect his decision."

"Sherlock, he's a mess. You can’t just leave."

"I can, and he will understand, because he asked it of me before he got hurt. He told me he wouldn't want to see me again after it all finished and I am respecting his wishes."

Greg nodded. "Fine. I’ll keep watch and I'll keep you updated."

"Thank you Greg."

 .~.~.~.

Three months after the pool John was able to leave.

Greg had offered him a room at his place till he got back on his feet, an offer he took with a lot of gratitude.

His physical recovery had been slow and he once again found himself walking with a cane, a setback he hated but dealt with. He had problems with his breathing now as well, the damage to his lung had been rather extensive and he could no longer be physical for a long period of time without almost passing out from lack of air. The bullet in his shoulder hadn’t caused as much trouble this time round, what with it not getting infected, but it had become a lot stiffer due to more scar tissue. The two bullets in his lower back had caused the least damage of them all, somehow missing all the important bits in that area.

It was his leg that had caused the most trauma for him. It was still in a cage split and was due for another operation to make the final adjustments to shattered femur which was now mostly metal only two weeks after being discharged, but at least he had two weeks of freedom.

His time in hospital had been spent mostly in a haze of pain, not only physically but emotionally as well. His grief at the loss of Ja hit about a week after he woke and he had spent a good few days refusing everything from food to drink, to people seeing him. He had cried himself to sleep more than he cared to admit and he mourned the life he would have had with him.

A week after that he had contacted Ja's mother who had been so grateful for the contact. He had to lie, saying he had been called home the night Ja died and he was sorry for not calling sooner. She had been brilliant, telling him she understood and letting him know just how much Ja really cared for him.

"He did love you Johnathan."

"I know...and I wish...I wish I had been given the chance to show him I felt the same." He lied through the threatening tears, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He had cared for Ja deeply but saying that was not the same as saying he loved him.

It was a whole month after waking that the memory of the pool hit. It had happened in a nightmare, him holding the gun towards Sherlock, Sherlock’s apology, Moriarty finally dead, and then the cubicle, being held in Sherlock’s arms and the declaration of love, the pain on the pale man’s face as John truly felt he was taking his last breath.

John had woken in tears, he sobbed as he pushed his face into the pillow a new sort of loss finding its way into his system.

He loved Sherlock, it was something he could never deny himself, an emotion he wished he could simply delete but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. And so the loss was that of knowing that no matter what, he would go through life always loving the one thing he hated the most. Because that was the other thing he couldn't deny, he hated Sherlock, hated the pain the other man had put him through, hated the loss he had caused and hated every single stupid curl and inch of pale skin the man possessed, because damn did John just want him.

Greg had tried to convince John to at least contact Sherlock, text, email, a note, but John refused and Greg stopped asking after a few weeks.

Now after being out of hospital for a few days John found himself walking Regents Park. After a turn around the lake he sat and just let the London air soak into him, and watched the people as they enjoyed the warm day.

So when Mycroft sat next to him he was lucky because for the first time in a while, John was in a good mood.

"Afternoon John."

"I should be telling you to piss off."

"I thought it was to be a punch in the nose, or a bullet between the eyes."

John turned to the elder Holmes who smiled slightly and just laughed.

"I was a bit dramatic wasn't I?"

"I think you had just cause John."

"Yes, there is that." Silence fell on the two for a moment before John finally spoke. "So, what can i do for you Mycroft?"

"Sherlock."

John stiffened but remained silent.

"He..." he paused, his normally straight back slumping slightly. “You will not see him?"

"No."

"Why not John?" Mycroft asked in a very unusual soft voice

"Why?" John repeated his good mood now slowly disappearing. "Because he does not, nor will he ever deserve it!"

With that he stood and started to make his way towards the parks exit.

"What about you John? What do you deserve?"

John paused then quietly he answered. "I deserved Ja, but you and your brother took him from me. But above all I deserve to have my life back and I deserve to find someone who will trust me above all else."

And with that John walked away hoping it would be the last he ever saw of either of the Holmes Brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an alternative ending to this story (it is tragic but it needed to be written) because this my lovelies is the end, this is the last chapter.
> 
> There is also an epilogue for those wishing a happier ending, but that needs more work and you will have to wait a bit longer for that ;)


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, I thought it would take longer to get this up but the muse struck and I'm rather happy with how this turned out. Hope its good enough for you all :)

John never realised just how much he had missed the British winter until he woke to snow on the ground.

He had been having one of his bad nights and when his sweat covered shirt had forced him from his bed to change he had glimpse the falling snow through his curtains, so instantly he changed into his thickest pair of jeans a vest t-shirt and a black cable knit jumper he had gotten for Christmas the week pervious.

When he got down the stairs he pulled on his boots grabbed his coat, gloves and a scarf before picking up his cane by the door and headed out into the snow covered streets.

Stepping onto the perfect white covering the path John smiled, his nightmares forgotten and every other worry he had disappearing with the flakes falling around him.

Smiling brightly he slowly made his way through the dark streets not caring about the cold and loving the lights still up because of the season. For now John felt more himself, more alive than he had since his return to England and he was sure his councillor would see that as a very positive step forward.

Greg had talked him into going back to therapy after John's nightmares had increased to every night and he ended up waking not just himself but Greg as well. Greg was understanding, of course he was, but the man needed his sleep just as much as John, and so John had done as he was asked and he had contacted Ella. Four months on and his nightmares had reduced but not completely disappeared.

He had moved out of Greg’s a month ago, moving a bit closer to a clinic he now worked part time at. It was boring, easy, but it paid well and he was able to afford a nice place after selling the home in Australia. Most that money he put away, his aim to save it for when he could no longer work.

As he walked aimlessly through the London streets he stopped short as he found himself at the opening to Bakerstreet.

He had spent most of his time avoiding this street. He knew Sherlock still lived at 221B, Greg had informed him, and so rather than going, he invited Mrs Hudson for afternoon teas or coffee someplace else.

Now though as he stood just meters away from his former home, from everything that had once been his life, he found that he was drawn to the warm glow emanating from the tall windows.

Taking a few deep breaths John just stood for a moment before closing his eyes and giving his body over to instinct. When he started to move he opened his eyes and was not at all surprised as he slowly made his way towards the black door of 221.

Once at the door he stopped and looked up. The knocker was, as it always had been, slightly crooked and snow had fallen close enough to the door to attach itself to the golden numbers and the groves within the door.

He had no idea how long he just stood there, staring, but his leg was starting to stiffen and he knew he needed to get either home or into 221 before it became painful.

Clenching his fist he willed himself to turn and leave but instead he stepped up to the black door and knocked.

Panic set in.

Stepping back down he started to doubt everything he had just done and he wanted to flee.

Turning he moved as quickly as he could heading towards regents park at the other end of the street.

"John?"

He stopped, his breathing stopped, his heart stopped, even his thoughts stopped, everything just stopped at the sound of Sherlock’s voice.

"Of course I could be wrong, because John Watson would never find himself playing knock and run."

The voice was closer now, right behind him but he didn’t move.

"Come inside John, I've just put the kettle on."

"I'm not sure if that’s a good idea." John finally forced out.

"Okay...but it is snowing and your leg is starting to stiffen. We can’t really stay out here."

"Then you go in and I'll hail a cab and go home."

"John...please."

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I shouldn't have knocked. Just go in, pretend this never happened."

Sherlock laughed. "That will never happen John. It’s been nearly eight months since I last saw you. Do you really think I would just let you walk away now?" He paused a moment and when he spoke again his voice was pleading. "Please, just at least turn around?"

"Well you see there lays the problem."

"What problem?"

"There are two outcomes to me turning and facing you. One I punch your lights out."

"And two?"

John turned.

The first thing he noted was the lack of jacket or coat on Sherlock's thin frame,  a simple white shirt with sleeves rolled up was all that cover him, along with a pair of his suit trousers. The second thing he noticed was how amazing the man looked. Black curls, slightly longer than normal, with snowflakes clinging to them, framed his face, which was still just as pale as he remembered and just as inviting. The third was his eyes, so full of emotion that John had a hard time placing each of them.

"Two..." John muttered his eyes finally landing on the lips he had been dreaming about for months, the only dream he had where he woke happy, even if it was just for a short amount of time. Stepping closer John found himself lifting his hand. Sherlock stayed perfectly still until Johns gloved fingers brushed his jaw, then his cheek.

"John?" He asked still not moving but his eyes darkened and John felt himself responding.

Closing the gap further he moved his hand into Sherlock's hair and pulled him down until John caught his lips with his own.

It was a short kiss, a simple press of lips against lips but it was enough. The distance between the two closed fully and Sherlock’s arm found its way around John's shoulder while the other wrapped around his waist holding him close. John let go of his cane allowing him to wrap his arm around Sherlock’s waist, also pulling him as close as possible.

Pulling back from the kiss John looked up at Sherlock and smiled.

"That was two."

"I gathered."

"This doesn't mean I'm still not totally pissed off with you."

"I know."

"It also doesn't mean I'm moving back any time soon."

"Ok."

"This is going to be a long slow process Sherlock."

"I accept that."

"Good."

"John?”

"What?"

"Please come inside."

John smiled and nodded. "Okay, one cup of tea."

"Two?"

"Don’t push your luck." John said with a smile.

Sherlock smiled back then grabbed John's face with hands and kissed him again, this time with a little more force but still holding back. John wanted to melt, god he really did, but he held back.

Time...this was all going to take time and he was going to give himself all the time he needed to make this work.

 .~.~.~.~.

Sherlock watched as the lone figure stood at the opening to Bakerstreet, his heart having nearly dropped out at the sight of John Watson stood only a few hundred yards away. What was he thinking walking so late at night? In the snow? On his own?

Greg had of course told him that John had recovered well but his leg still caused him problems as did his breathing if he pushed himself too far. But as he watched his friend, his former friend, his ex, he suddenly understood. The winter seasons in Australia were a lot dryer than they where in England, and though the mountains got snow, the cities very rarely got snow and if they did it never stuck. So quiet simply John was enjoying the first snow fall since his arrival back in England. That was way he was out so late, in the snow, on his own.

Watching as John slowly made his way down Bakerstreet, Sherlock could only but hope that he was walking to the door, and so when he stopped Sherlock stepped back, away from the window, just in case he looked up. But by doing this he lost sight of John and he now had no idea what he was doing, whether he was walking away, or just stood there or maybe even…

The sound of the knocker had Sherlock moving so fast he never even grabbed a jacket, or coat and so by the time he reached the door to find John already walking away he didn’t even hesitate as he stepped out into the snow.

First looking up the way John came he saw nothing, then turning to look the other he saw John limping away as quickly as possible.

Stepping from the porch area he walked a few steps before calling John’s name, hoping to keep it calm, steady, and not to give away the pounding fear, hope and excitement he was feeling.

“John?”                

John stopped giving Sherlock a chance to catch up but he stopped a few feet away, really not wanting to scare him off.

"Of course I could be wrong, because John Watson would never find himself playing knock and run." He tried for humour but when no response came he softened his voice and spoke again. "Come inside John, I've just put the kettle on."

"I'm not sure if that’s a good idea." John finally spoke and the sound of it sent a thrill of pleasure and pain right through him. God he had missed that voice, even forced and angry it still affected him in such a way that no other voice could.

Thinking quickly he took in John’s back, the way he stood, the way his leg’s were and so he went for another tactic.

"Okay...but it is snowing and your leg is starting to stiffen. We can’t really stay out here."

"Then you go in and I'll hail a cab and go home."

No, that wasn’t going to happen, not now John was so close, he obviously wanted…something, he would never have knocked if he didn’t want to at least try at a reconciliation.

"John...please." He almost begged, he could hear it in his tone of voice, but that just went to show how desperate he was.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I shouldn't have knocked. Just go in, pretend this never happened."

Sherlock laughed. "That will never happen John. It’s been nearly eight months since I last saw you. Do you really think I would just let you walk away now?" He paused a moment and when he spoke again his voice really was pleading. "Please, just at least turn around?"

"Well you see there lays the problem." John now sound exasperated.

"What problem?" He asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

"There are two outcomes to me turning and facing you. One I punch your lights out." That was unexpected, he only thought there would be one outcome and he was willing to take it, he would gladly have John punch him as long as he stayed afterward and they continued to talk.

"And two?" He asked, scared of the answer.

John turned and Sherlock stopped breathing, he stopped thinking, he just looked. John was a lot thinner, but he looked well, his walk had added a rosy glow to his cheeks and snowflakes clung to his blond grey hair, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to brush them out.

"Two..." John muttered as his eyes moved from Sherlock’s eyes to his mouth. Sherlock went totally still as John stepped closer his hand slowly lifting till a glove clad hand brushed against his jaw and then his cheek.

"John?" He asked still not moving but watching with fascination as John’s eyes darkened and he stepped even closer his hand moving from his cheek into his hair and then he was pulling Sherlock down and Sherlock went willingly.

It was a short kiss, a simple press of lips against lips but it was enough but not enough all at the same time. The distance between the two closed fully and Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulder while the other wrapped around his waist pulling him closer while John let go of his cane and wrapped his arm around his waist, all the while keeping his hand in Sherlock’s hair.

Pulling back from the kiss John looked up at Sherlock and smiled.

"That was two." John breathed, his fingers gently moving against the back of Sherlock’s neck before slowly lowering till he held onto Sherlock’s arms.

"I gathered."

"This doesn't mean I'm still not totally pissed off with you."

"I know."

"It also doesn't mean I'm moving back any time soon."

"Ok." Sherlock said though he really hated that fact.

"This is going to be a long slow process Sherlock."

"I accept that." Because he did, he knew what John needed and he was going to give it to him no matter what.

"Good."

They stood for a moment just staring at each other.

"John?”

"What?"

"Please come inside."

John smiled and nodded. "Okay, one cup of tea."

"Two?" Sherlock asked with hope.

"Don’t push your luck." John said with a smile.

Sherlock smiled back then without a thought of how John would react he took John’s face in his hands and kissed him once again, a bit more forceful than last time but still he held back. But as John responded, damn did he just want to give in and give all, to melt into John right in the middle of the street. But he didn’t, instead he ended the kiss, placing his forehead against John’s and just breathed the other man in.

Time...this was all going to take time and he was going to give John and himself all the time they needed to make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is for every, hit, kudo, comment, subscribe and bookmark. Thank you so much for all your support and thank you for reading. I hope this ended at least how some of you wished it to end and I hope maybe to visit this AU with a few one off stories in the future. 
> 
> Take care my dear readers and a very happy 2016 to you all.


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